I want to live on a green belt near the lake in a wee house with a fireplace and light and room for a studio and a park near by where I can run the dog and see eagles and it's all paid for so I don't have to work so hard to pay the effing huge mortgage. And a tree. And a mother in law where I can have a friend live. And the roof doesn't leak. And the plumbing is fine and the floors are ok. And I can have a fire when it's cold.

I went to the street where I first made a bid on my first house. I didn't get the house but it was incredibly cheap and I had a down payment, a little one. I still want to live on that street.

Maybe I will.

I spent the ENTIRE DAY with midwifery students (and a model) in a series of mock postpartum visits. Geez, it was grueling (like porridge?) Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. See, brain is fried. And now I have to grade them all. I have a pile of papers in front of me and no one has made me dinner though my tenant has offered chicken and dumplings. Not what I want. I want some chocolate cake and champagne.

I think that is a perfectly acceptable dinner.

Felix is at dog camp with Randy, my savior. For three days. I love Felix but he takes a lot of energy and frankly, tonight I don't have any.

Ok, Fake mashed potatoes made with cauliflower. It's good. It's dinner at the Coyote household.

My new hair. And I feel like Penelope Cruz, just older.

I got a haircut today. It was time. After the last haircut which I didn't like at all, I said, fuck it, I'm just growing it out and so it grew and grew, duh, what hair does. So now it's all flowing grey locks with curl and product and I feel fabulous. Too bad I have nowhere to go with my wondrous hair except for the dog park.

I downloaded an interview I conducted with a midwife pal that my buddy Clark transcribed and it's 23 pages long. Yikes. Fortunately, she's a brilliant and insightful person, but geez, Clark has five more interviews to go. This bit is hard, waiting for interviews, conducting interviews with midwives, practically impossible. And then I procrastinate. Ha.

My writing group is interesting. I drive all the way to Duvall, a far place to me. We sit on the floor of a yoga studio and write from prompts. I'm finding that I 1) want to make myself look good and 2) I don't have patience with prose. However, poems spring up afterwards.

With this hairdo I will look good on Sunday when I go to Duvall again.

Yesterday, sweet Rosemary came over and assessed my house for salability. Sigh. It's time, like a haircut, it's time to divest. This big old house is too big and too old. And I must have smaller and cheaper and more secluded. Or I think more secluded. I'm fantasizing about 'small house backing a greenbelt' versus co-housing versus a condo in an old old brick building versus 2 acres with shack and painting studio on Vashon Island. The thought of packing, moving, starting over etc makes me totally terrified. By myself. At least I figured something out. As a once homeless teen, home is very important and never a sure thing. And I have to be protective and fierce and closed up so I'm not out there again with no roof and no family and no resources.

I can't afford this house forever unless I work til I die. And I'd rather go to Burma.

Rosemary said that mostly my house needs a bit of cosmetics. After I'm done paying for the exterior paint job and the furnace, I can tackle the eye shadow and mascara.

For lunch I had a smoothie made with chard and almond milk, two tofu hotdogs with mustard and a bowl of granola. I think I hit all the food groups.

When I arrived home today there were a mess 'o feathers and bird blood on the kitchen floor compliments of the katz, the murdering bastards. It is their nature but sometimes their nature is a bitch.

Two sightings of a holy/ethereal/ miraculous sort:

Over the weekend I was tooling down MLK and in the opposite lane, in the road, complete with police escort, were about 200 people, Ethiopians? All wearing white, long white scarves on their heads. A few young men were in the front with rolled up carpets. In the center of the crowd was a canopy with three wise men? underneath. They were lavishly dressed with bright colors around their faces. Wha???? The Ethiopian version of the Dalai Lama? I immediately wanted to pull over and park and get out of the car. Cars on the road were wrong. I wanted to bow down.

Today driving across Beacon Hill, I was scanning for the dead end road where the Buddhist monastery is. I stumbled on it once, looking for a mom in labor. I  found the street and there in the median was an elderly woman standing beside her wheelchair fervently praying with her palms together in the direction of the monastery. Again public worship. In the daytime. Random.

The homeless man I gave a dollar to had beautiful hazel eyes. He liked the color of my car, same color of the tarp he's calling home.

I'm just a visitor here.

My dog has learned to sit, lie down and roll over. And he'll do it over and over again for dog cookies. Seriously. That's what we do around here.

I danced today after 3 hours of sleep. I don't even feel tired. I must be delusional. I am delusional.

That's me. Beth Delusional Coyote.

Amen.

Weary. Busy with work. A pileup of women who are waiting for labor. Lynn and I will be busy soon, running here and there, catching babies. In a writing class in Duvall, a hellava drive from here on Sunday afternoon. Constant low level worry about money, about the dog who needs attention, what do I do with the dog when I'm gone for hours, days at a time. My trusty dog sitter Randy to the rescue.

Clark gave me a CD of his singing, piano and his sweet voice so full of ache and melancholy. I listened to him driving to work, wiping tears away as I walked into clinic. His rendition of Joni Michell's River so low and sorrowful.

Watching old Colombo episodes. That man has stains and wrinkles on his iconic raincoat. And a half smoked cigar. And a terrible old car. He was always busting the uber rich in their fancy houses with pools and hot tubs and red corvettes. O if it only were that easy

I want to think about beauty today the mock orange all indecent bloom o bees humming to themselves as they work through the stamen the pistil  smell of earth and rot

I want to imagine the workers coming from the train carrying their lunch pails brief cases backpacks as they shed their clothes and drop their shoes in the street their skin flecked with sunlight

I want to pilfer strawberries from the neighbors eat them with the dirt and stems smear their red tang on my cheeks

I want to sit and wait for the hummingbird flicking her green belly among the gladiolas her hover a miracle of hollow bones and thrum

I want to think about beauty today as the ships come into the grain elevators the air thick with chaff as they are loaded for China  Peru   Anatolia   their long chutes thundering with seed

With thanks to Rebecca.

The weather is yuck and cold and rainy. Usually I love a good challenge; long raincoat, big boots, dog on lease and off we go to get pelted and soaked and invigorated.

Not feeling it today. Still in my pajamas wishing for a fireplace and an old movie (Sunset Boulevard, anyone?) and popcorn. And hot chocolate.

It whipped and roared and blew and threw garbage cans down the street last night. The dog woke up and crawled under the bed. It was dramatic. And a momma is in labor. Barometric pressure, that's what brings out the babies.

I NEVER get a day like this when I stay in a state of undress, sleep in and putter about. Only when I'm sick and that doesn't count.

Meanwhile, the umbrella I left opened on the back porch has disappeared. Poof! It's undoubtedly down the street visiting a neighbor.

Because my old router was wonky and inconsistent, I WENT OUT AND BOUGHT ANOTHER ONE AND INSTALLED IT ALL BY MYSELF. Without calling anyone or having the nice neighborhood husband come over. Who says we women can't do things? With electronics? Huh, I'll show you.

I'm working on poems about bears. They keep gouging the furniture with their giant claws.

Yesterday Felix and I ran the park. In the pouring rain. Discovery Park is a Naval station with a huge water tower, a light house and a few military families still living there. Mostly it's an enormous park on Puget Sound so there are forests, a waste treatment center, a long strip of beach, a fenced area where the police horses live, a First Nations conference center filled with contemporary Native art and huge sandy cliffs. And bunnies. On a day like yesterday, off-leash dogs own the place. He ran and ran and ran, found the ball to lose it again. He went in the water several times. He played with other dogs (consisting of chasing and being chased).

And I forgot to add-Felix went to the dog bath place after and now he is clean and fluffy and he smells good. This will last for about 24 hours when we again venture out into the muddy wet etc. Then he'll look like his true self. Doggy and dirty and beautiful.

The house is so quiet. And clean. After my breakfast, I sat at the table and cried. For a while. For long enough that my eyes are all swollen and my nose is drippy. Felix came and 'nosed' me by pushing his nose under my arm. He wants a walk so off we go.

The sun is miraculously out. I emptied and refilled the hot tub and it might be hot enough now.

Tonight there is a 'Hot Flash' dance at the boy bar. The dance is twice a month for the ladies. I usually go with a friend-any excuse to dance, you know. She can't go tonight so I'm thinking I'll go ALONE. Gawd. Because it is for us older gals, it starts at 6PM and ends at 10. Hahahahahaaha. I'm usually done by 8, really. And the music is questionable; sometimes good, sometimes terrible. I'll go and dance by myself and have a drink made by a bartender that knows how to make cocktails, unlike me.

There are usually a few dancers on platforms who are barely dressed and young and skinny. I feel, um, anbivalent about them. Women stick dollar bills in their panties like strip clubs. It's modern life, I guess. Am I sex positive or an old fart? I don't know.

A dance friend just called and wants to meet me tonight to dance. I don't have to be totally pathetic!!!

Saved. But not by the baby Jesus.

Grief is a bitch.

Holly and I went for a hike today in the beautiful Northwest woods. And Felix of course.

The beautiful green and wet forest. It is my church, my home, my altar and my solace. 

An apple and almond butter for dinner. Herb tea. Felix is actually tired out. A miracle.

Came home today and Deb's already found another place to live, rented an apartment. Whew. That was fast. She's outa here as quick as possible, apparently.

I made a cocktail for myself consisting of Scotch, lemon/ginger/honey beverage and sparkling water. Why, you ask, don't you go straight for the Scotch. Because I want a cocktail, dammit, no matter how inept or peculiar.

Am I heartbroken and sad. Yes. I am.