by Amy Stinnett
He mentioned yesterday that he needed to go do some things for her. “Wanna go over to Sheila’s first?”
“Yep.”
So, we walked over and Sheila and I visited while Elliot did some horse care for her.
She has two quarter horses (does that make a half horse?). One is a roan (red) named Rosemarie and the other is a chestnut named Tucker. They are beautiful! She said she has a girl come over to ride them and care for them when she is gone. She’s leaving Saturday morning.
Elliot and I went back home and started on chores. We have this down now, so it goes a lot faster. Okay, it goes a lot faster now that I actually have some idea what I am doing. Get eggs, check goat and chicken feed, make repairs, feed dogs, etc. Sometimes we divide and conquer, and the goats and chickens don’t have to be fed every day. There was a dead chicken in one of the coops this morning. Its comb was black, and it looked blue around its mouth. It looked like it may have been that little grey hen that got out the first time I was here. Elliot said it was just the cold. It looked so pitiful as he carried it by the legs over to the trash can. A few of the birds have dark spots on their combs, and I am worried about them. I put more pine shavings inside their coops and nest boxes and straw in areas they congregate.
February 2, 2013
After I stayed over the first night, I just decided to go ahead and stay the rest of the week. I spent last night cleaning the living room, bathroom, and kitchen again, but I knew Liv would just barge in wherever she pleases, opening drawers, closets and cabinets, to see what I have gotten myself in for. She is like that, having to see everything for herself.
They got here around 10:30 and brought donuts and coffee. I heard them pull up and stepped out onto the porch to meet them.
“Oh, my gosh, are those Crocs?” she asked, looking at my footwear. I ignored her and yelled at the dogs who were going off behind the house. They knew these people did not belong here.
“The dogs are cool,” I said. “They just want to know who’s here.”
Liv handed me the box of donuts and walked past me into the house. Nate got out of the car with a drink holder full of coffees and said, “Nice place. I’ve always liked goats.”
We walked in behind Liv and stopped just inside the door for them to take off their shoes. I looked at my cool hikers sitting in a boot tray, now trashed and covered in mud and, well let’s just stick with mud, and the new fleece-lined work boots I bought from the supply store in Emmett, also caked with mud. My Merrells were on standby whenever I wanted to go anywhere that didn’t involve mud.
“This is the grand tour of the house,” I said, pointing. “Kitchen here, living room there, bathroom here, bedroom there. That’s about it.”
Liv went over to the bathroom, stared, walked inside, opened and closed the drawers of the built-in cabinet, and surveyed the room. Can I predict Liv or what? “This is really cool. Needs some paint, but I like it. The faucet needs some cleaning, but it has that old farmhouse look, and people like that now.”
She floated into the bedroom and turned carefully around, touching her fingers on a couple of books. “Is this the only bedroom?” I told her that they had gutted the house to make a common area, then added the bedroom on. She glanced over my head. “Oh, there’s a loft, that’s pretty cool.”
“Oh, up there.” Nate turned around. He hustled up the wooden ladder and sat on the edge of the loft. “It is neat up here. There’s a mattress and a couple of boxes. Have you been up here?” I had climbed up to look once. I nodded.
“It’s going to be a tough sell with just one bedroom.”
“You could section off this area,” Nate climbed back down and walked over to the area close to the bathroom. He held his arms out. “Just put up a couple of partition walls, and you’ll have your second bedroom. There’s even a window, so you’ll meet code.”
Code? I hadn’t even thought about code. Of course, there will have to be an inspection.
We all sat down at the table. “I think it’s adorable,” Liv insisted. They went on for about five minutes discussing pluses and minuses of the house and came up with several ideas about what I could do to fix it up. Nate admitted he was not good at carpentry, but he could change lights and make small repairs. Liv said she would love to paint and could even throw a painting party when the time came.
We took our donuts and coffee over to the couch and talked for a while, Nate sprawling on the floor so we all could look at each other. Liv gave an awkward stamp of approval. “It’s much better than I thought it was going to be. It’s livable. I feel better about leaving you here, anyway.”
There was a lull and Nate said, “Is now a good time?” Liv nodded.
I had a sinking feeling, not knowing what needed an announcement.
“So, I have some work available for you at the station. Nothing too big, just part-time, updating our links and buttons. Also, maybe adding some copy. It wouldn’t pay too much, but it’s something. Would you want that?”
That was a relief. I scrutinized Liv to see if this was one of her schemes. “Did Liv talk you into this?”
“No,” he said. “I mean, I told her we needed somebody. But it was my idea to ask you. If you don’t want to, that’s okay.”
“Well, heck yeah, I want to do it.” This would help out in a huge way financially.
“Okay. Great. Most of it you can do from home, but you’d need to come in to the station occasionally. And it’s kind of a fill-in, so when you go back to Seattle, you won’t get dinged for short-timing it.”
“No problem. I can do that. Wow, thanks Nate.” Like I said, Nate is starting to grow on me.
We went outside and I showed them where the goats, chickens, and dogs live from where we stood in the driveway. We grabbed some of my things I’d asked Liv to bring and set them inside the house, and I could tell they were ready to go. Liv gave me a hug and told me to come back to their place anytime I needed to (Nate nodded agreement) and to keep the key, regardless. The wind started to pick up, so they got in their car and left, Liv waving furiously as they turned around and drove away.
Once they were gone, I went inside and sat on the couch, and it hit me. Now I don’t just stay here, I live here.
February 3, 2013
I woke up at 8:02 a.m. to a knock at the door. I took a look at my UW sweatpants and Pixie’s t-shirt and thought that whoever knocks at this time of morning should have low expectations. I opened the front door, and…
There. Stood. Jodie. From the library.
She was catching her breath and grinning the way girls do in cold weather. She had a snow shovel balanced on her shoulder.
“Hey, did you know it snowed like a foot last night?” I shook my head no. Then I looked past her to the driveway. It was covered in a smooth layer of the white stuff, other than a set of deep boot prints that led from the road to my porch.
“My dad is clearing Sheila’s driveway with his tractor. Do you want him to get yours, too?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” I was still surprised to see her. I stepped out onto the porch and closed the door.
“How did you know I live here?”
“I knew your dad… and I take care of Sheila’s horses. Derp.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I’m still asleep.” I am so stupid.
“Sorry.”
“No, no, I appreciate your help.” I stood there shivering with my arms crossed tightly, my teeth about to start chattering any second.
“Okay, well, he’ll clear your driveway when he’s done with Sheila’s. If you want, I could come back and help you shovel some paths so you can get to things.”
“Oh, that’d be great! Do you want me to help with the horses?”
“No, I got it. I’ll see you in a few.”
With that, she turned and headed back up my driveway.
February 3, 2013 (continued)
I crammed down a pop-tart (organic and gluten free from the Co-op), and got dressed and ready for snow shoveling by the time Jodie and he
r dad, Russ, showed up. Russ was a broad-shouldered, easy-going guy, who greeted me with a big, warm smile. He was happy to clear the driveway out, and he and his tractor made short work of it before heading down the road, towards Elliot’s place, I assumed. That left me and Jodie to shovel out paths to the goats, chickens, and dogs. I’m no stranger to snow, having been to Snoqualmie Pass more than a few times in the last four years, but I think I have only actually shoveled snow once in my whole life. And that was a sidewalk. It’s a lot different shoveling over gravel and grassy areas, since the blade doesn’t have a flat, hard surface to work against. I have to give Jodie credit, because not only did she shovel circles around me, she lined out all the paths, showed me how to clear the gates, and did not get all condescending over my ineptitude.
When we got out to the kennel, the dogs were yelping like the hounds of hell, like someone’s leg was in a trap. I had to fight Pippin and Bruno to get the snow off the gate just to open it. We went inside and gave them all snacks, then shoveled snow out of the run part and where it had drifted into their shed, so they could get around easier. I tried to scoop up some poo, but it was frozen to the ground and didn’t want to budge. I got out a little digging tool and finally got the pile and a good chunk of earth lifted out and put in a bag.
“The glamorous side of pet ownership,” Jodie said. She scratched Lucy behind the ears and checked out the kennel.
“Well, it’s better than the alternative,” I said. I turned to put my treasure into the trash can and suddenly felt my feet slide out from under me and my butt make hard contact with the ground. The poo bag left my hand, flew over my head, and landed at Jodie’s feet.
“Score!” She yelled, causing the dogs to get excited again.
“Sorry.” I wanted to turn red with embarrassment, but I joined her in laughing at me instead.
She slid over to one of the dog houses and peered inside. “What’s going on with you, little guy?” It was the Scottie mix.
“Is something wrong with Frodo?” I walked over, rubbing my backside through my snow pants.
“I don’t know.”
Frodo crawled forward to the edge of his house and stopped. I reached in behind his shoulders and gently lifted him out. His eyebrows twitched with worry.
“Frodo, what’s wrong?” Jodie asked and leaned over me to boop his nose. She cleared some clumps of snow and dirt out of his paws with her fingers, but when she got to his back left paw, he yanked it away. “Uh-oh.” She touched his upper leg and wrapped her hand around it, pushing his paw out into the air. Frodo tolerated her enough to let her clean out his toes, but when I put him down, he limped back into his house and lay down again.
“What should I do?”
“I’d call the vet.”
“Which vet?”
“The lady vet. Black Canyon Vet Clinic. I don’t know where your dad went, but she is great and charges half of what the others do.”
“I guess I could find out from Elliot, or if I ever start to go through my dad’s paperwork.”
“It must be hard, losing your dad.” She kicked a little bank of snow with her foot.
“Well, yes, but it’s kind of weird. I didn’t really know him that well before. I think I know him better from staying here than from all the phone calls I had with him over the years.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. He was so funny. He helped me on a 4-H project when I was little, and he came into the library all the time before he got sick. He used to do the pull my finger trick, just ‘cause it was so corny it made me laugh. He would check out like ten paperbacks at a time and bring them back before they were due. He read every one, and I’m lucky to get through a book a week. I miss him.” She looked up. “Oh, hey, there’s my dad heading back.”
We left Frodo and the gang and headed for the driveway. Russ pulled in and hopped off his tractor, leaving it running. He pulled off his hat, revealing a grim expression. “Elliot’s mom is in the hospital.”
“Oh, no.” Jodie said.
“I should go in and check on him. Which hospital?”
“They’re here in Emmett, just the one hospital.”
“Oh. How are the roads?”
“You should be fine, even with your little car, if you just take it slow. You might want to think about getting chains.” Russ put his hat and gloves on and got back on his tractor.
Jodie stood there looking at me for a moment. She pulled a business card from a zippered pocket on her coat and handed it to me. It was for her dad’s construction business.
“If you need anything, just call the number on the back.” I flipped it over to see a handwritten number. I felt my heart flutter a little. “That’s my cell.” She grabbed a side rail on the tractor and hoisted herself up. “See you later. Be careful.”
“I will.” What did it mean for her to give me her number? I’m sure she’s just being friendly, neighborly. Right? She gave me her dad’s number, too.
I watched them ride back over to Sheila’s, load the tractor onto Russ’s trailer, and drive away.
February 4, 2013
It was a long day yesterday. I checked on Elliot and ended up running some errands for him, which I was glad to do. I fed his mom’s cat, brought him some clothes, and I picked up a shawl he said his mother would want, one her mother made for her when she was little. Elliot is very close to his mother, and she may not make it out of the hospital this time. She’s almost eighty years old.
I went out this morning to get eggs, and one of the little terror Orcs laid an egg way back under the main coop which was raised off the ground about three or four feet. I almost left it, but I thought about how bad it would smell if it broke later on, and Elliot told me leaving eggs for too long fostered chickens eating their own eggs (gross). So, I knelt down and duck-walked under the coop to retrieve it. I captured the golden coin and turned around to promptly smack my head against the floor of the coop. This made me pitch forward, and I almost landed on the hand with the egg in it, but instead I put my knee down into a quarter-sized ball of wet chicken poop. When I got to the edge of the coop, I turned around and carefully stood up so that I didn’t whack my head again. The rough board snagged my hair and yanked out a small strand.
I said a few choice words and finished up the egg run. As I walked across the driveway, I saw Jodie waving to me from Sheila’s place. I waved back, thinking I was glad she couldn’t see me close up, with my hair all teased out and poop smeared down my leg.
I got cleaned up and sat down at my dad’s desk, determined to go through some of his paperwork. He had actually bolted a pencil sharpener to the desk. I haven’t seen one of those since middle school. I took the container off and sniffed the shavings. I could almost see my dad sitting where I was sitting, turning the little handle to sharpen his pencil.
There was a large blue book with graph paper in it where Dad had written down purchases for the farm. The last entry was from October for goat wormer. I remember him talking about that in the hospital, and it hit me just then how stupid I was. All that ranting he was doing at the hospice; he was trying to teach me something. And I was sitting there like some moron. “Like, whatever.” Oblivious to everything. I put the book back and sorted through a stack of warranties and product manuals for pumps, goat waterers, and electric fencing. It was just overwhelming. I am in so far over my head. I hope I don’t ruin the place before I can get it sold.
I straightened up the desk and, afraid to throw anything out, I shoved a bunch of loose wires and metal twisty things into a bottom drawer.
I ate lunch, read some more of Stranger in a Strange Land, and started to go out to check eggs again and feed the dogs when it hit me – Frodo! I forgot him.
It hadn’t snowed much since yesterday, so the shoveled path was clear. The other dogs were happy to see me and get fed, but Frodo was still in his house. I fished him out again, took him inside, and ended up stuffing him in a plastic kennel and leaving him in the house while I went to the hospital. The staff there is very fr
iendly, and they have been really good to Elliot and his mom.
On my way out, I went to the bathroom. While I was in there, this little girl was in the stall next to me, humming and singing and swinging her feet. Her mom kept prodding her to finish up, but she was clearly running on her own time. I walked out of my stall a minute or so after her, and she looked up at me from her sink and said, “You’re in the wrong bathroom. You have to go to the boys’ bathroom.” Her mom said, “No, Ariel, that’s not right.” She mouthed, “Sorry,” to me before she left. I swear, is it me, or is it this place?
By the time I got back home from the hospital, it was dark and too late to call the vet. I took Frodo out and let him walk across the kitchen floor. He limped along on his poor foot but not as bad as before. His stench almost had a visible aura to it, so I stuck him in the kitchen sink and washed him up with shampoo. I rinsed several gallons of dirty water down the drain before he was even close to clean. He peed in the sink, so I figured we were good for the night on bathroom breaks. I wonder what breed or breeds were mixed in with Scottie. Beagle? Dachshund? Something short, anyway. He eyed me suspiciously as I cleaned out the kennel and lined it with an old towel, and when I tried to put him there later, he ran into the bedroom and curled up at the foot of my dad’s bed. Hmm. He was behaving so I left him out.
I thought about Ton-Ton, and I thought even more about Jodie. What would be non-lame enough of an excuse to call her?
February 5, 2013
Frodo woke up before me, peed in the kitchen, and crapped on the carpet in the living room. Ugh. What was I thinking?