Buttered Toast: A Delicacy
Friday, November 24, 2017
There is a large gap in the door in our bedroom.
The door leads to a small courtyard that connects our casita with two others.
Yes.
We live in a casita.
An Adobe casita built in the 1820s.
The walls are about a foot thick.
There is no central AC/ Heat.
You open the windows for a breeze.
You light a fire in the iron stove to keep warm.
300 sq ft.
Spiders.
Black widows.
Ground hogs.
Flies.
Many layers of dirt and grime that we have washed down the drain.
We camp on the floor on a donation air mattress from our British Angel, Finn the Landlord.
I grind my coffee with a quartz rock.
Josh is building a fence around the yard so the dogs can play unleashed.
We are adjusting to life without a "real" range.
We have one induction burner, one electric grill, and one convection oven.
All totaling around $300.
We have a combo washer dryer that only washes...
It's brand new.
I set up a clothesline today to let the sunshine help us.
Our electricity trips regularly if we try to use too many modern conveniences at once.
We have two space heaters to help when we run out of chopped wood.
Which is often.
We have to use store bought water because the water isn't safe for drinking.
We have yet to receive our furniture, our belongings... it's been 12 days since it was due to be delivered.
We have been camping in our casita for 20 days now.
It reaches into the 30s at night.
We have less than 24 garments of clothing between the two of us.
That isn't a lot to keep warm with.
Lots of cold toes.
We are sharing one car until we can pick up the other in Colorado Springs.
We made a decision at the beginning of November to follow our hearts.
Our hearts scream for New Mexico.
After all of this bratty banter.
All of the modern conveniences that we have lost.
We adore it here.
The head space.
The magic.
If you listen.
If you let your body be in tune.
This whole area pulses with it.
Creativity that winds deep within the earth like the ground hog that tunnels in our yard.
Popping up and unearthing new viewpoints.
When you take away all that you thought you needed.
When you really strip yourself bare.
It is an interesting battle to win.
To look yourself in the mirror.
To see yourself staring back.
Knowing.
That all that petty shit doesn't really matter.
Those goddamn movers that fucked you over and won't deliver your precious stuff.
It doesn't matter.
It just pisses you off and makes you forget about what matters.
How you handle your situation when you are stripped bare.
Do you crawl in a dark hole and cry how horrible life has been to you?
Or do you listen to the magic that is around you?
The love that is right next to you?
We didn't celebrate a traditional turkey dinner yesterday.
We didn't get to talk to family.
We didn't even consume turkey.
It was another day just like all the rest.
And just like all of those days.
We smiled at each other.
We embraced as much of that day as we could muster.
We weren't perfect.
That brat that rises took hold.
But we acknowledged it.
We let it throw its fucking fit.
And we got over it.
And we went to bed on a cold ass, hard ass air mattress.
And we still had the strength to say I love you.
You are such a bad ass.
You tackle all of this shit life throws.
And you punch it in the face and laugh.
~~~
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