“When Fortune Knocks…Open the Door!”
PART TWO: ”THEY SAID IT WOULD BE FUN”
A couple posts ago, I started telling you about what might have been a pretty quick story…but then again, nothing seems to work that way in my world. While I thought I could finish here with “Part 2” and put the topic to rest, I’m not so sure anymore? I guess we’ll just see how it all goes? One thing is certain, we’re in this journey together and in full disclosure, I’m not always 100% where we are going to end up? Life is one crazy ride!
That illuminated horseshoe was the last image I held of Rancho Valiente in my mind as we made our road trip east towards the Lonestar State. I couldn’t help but wonder what picture might replace it?
Monday, November 6, 2017 8:00 a.m.
There I sat, pulled off to the side of Silverado Drive, just past the guard-house and gated entry, awaiting the three huge moving vans that were just about to turn off of Highway 51 with Em, Alex and BAM trailing behind to ensure that our entire entourage found their way through Silverado’s large iron gates to start the subtle but gradual climb to 145 Ridgeoak. Together, our caravan of five vehicles traversed the expanse of Silverado’s winding landscape and made the right turn onto North Ridgeoak, eventually arriving at “145,” which signaled the cul-de-sac’s end and site of our new home. Once there, we found Woody waiting with keys, garage clickers, a big smile and his much appreciated and low-key good nature. The trucks all parked alongside the edge of the wide road, and we pulled our own two vehicles into the driveway, stopping when we reached the tailgate of Woody’s truck. The several-day, trip from Rancho Valiente had been routine, uneventful, fun and one made with many stops along the route in order to coordinate Ridgeoaks’s closing and transfer of title with our moving van’s anticipated timeline and scheduling. The last leg of the trip was made easily, albeit early this morning after a circle thru the nearest Starbucks drive-up window. Two “Venti” dark-roast blends of hot Coffee with a splash of milk in each and we were off! Highway 20 was a familiar stretch of road by this time, and the relatively short drive to Weatherford took just under two hours. I had no idea of the route the movers had chosen, but we agreed on the final day of packing up Rancho Valiente, my Santa Ynez ranch, to meet at Silverado’s entrance bright and early today and so voilá… here we were, right on schedule.
The tide was about to take a turn! Surely no trip could be as easy as this one had been? Not even the tiniest hint of trouble had interrupted our itinerary? As such, it wasn’t completely unexpected that our final day of travel and first stage of move-in, held the potential to introduce a few “hazard signs” and a potential harbinger of what might result in a long and frustrating process? It stinks when that happens; I end up being right…but not in a good way.
FIVE WEEKS IN, AND HERE WE WERE… NO BARN OR HORSESHOE, BUT STILL ALL LIT UP!
We exited our vehicles, greeted Woody, exchanged pleasantries, introduced our team of movers, who felt like old friends by this time, and moved around a bit to stretch our legs a titch before getting to the work that was ahead of us. Woody and Alex had just climbed into Woody’s truck to lead one moving van around to the backside of the property, where a large, insulated RV garage was located, but reached from a completely separate road and with its own driveway. It was there that the unloading of what we had previously packed, labeled, identified and loaded as “overflow/storage” would be emptied. Meanwhile, Em, Bam, the crew of canines and I started for the front door to check out 145 Ridgeoak, which had officially become Rancho Valiente’s replacement on the occasion of its “closing” and the title transfer just three days earlier. The scheduling of this whole move and the timing of property exchanges, etcetera had been a bit tricky, but was close to being accomplished. Woody was out of town the previous week, when the final walk-thru and inspection was to take place, so the young woman who was his associate at their firm, and the “techie” part of the twosome, filled-in to complete last week’s final inspection and checklist. Emma had also helped me a couple weeks back, providing long-distance answers to a few impromptu “measurement” questions which were needed for proposed furniture placement and the ease of planning move-in day. An attractive, seemingly smart and helpful young woman, and not one whose name I’d likely forget as it was so similar to my daughter’s. We walked through the house; all the rooms appeared clean and in order, with the few items which had required “a fix” both noted and done. I walked through the house to the master suite with an enormous bowl of water so our canine crew would be safely situated during the unloading of vans, which I knew from experience usually provided for the inevitable opening of every point of entrance, or exit, to a home for expediency and the moving team’s convenience. It wasn’t that any of our dogs were wanderers or likely to stray, but I learned the hard way at an early age that… moving day, semi-trucks slammed in reverse, and loose dogs do not make for happy endings. That detail addressed, I walked to the interior door leading from the laundry room hallway to the garage, opened it and clicked each of the three buttons to the three garage doors, opening each one. It was only then, when I looked outside for the first time towards the side yard in back of the driveway, that I recognized the glaringly recent, scarred patch of land which was larger than life and staring right back at me. I began to feel a wave of heat and anxiousness spread through my body. By this time, Em and BAM stood in the back edge of the driveway with me; Woody and Alex were back in the main driveway exiting Woody’s truck, and I was pointing towards the enormous 500-gallon, beige propane tank which was right there adjacent to the back of the driveway and next to the golf cart garage. “What the devil” was almost all I managed to say; “that wasn’t like that before?” Woody and Alex walked over from the truck, and we all moved nearer the offending item, a ginormously huge and ugly propane tank. Em looked at me quizzically saying only, “oh gosh, you didn’t use to be able to see a tank at all, much less this monster?” Woody responded casually, and said he didn’t know when or why it happened, but obviously the huge dense hedges and shrubs which had disguised the tank previously had been chopped down, as the scraping of the earth below and remnants of trunk marks were very visible; even the smell of fresh wood shavings lingered in the air? “Who, and why would someone do that” I asked? “Let me call Emma, and see if it was like this on Thursday, when she did the final walk-thru,” Woody responded. While he stepped away to make the phone call, I returned inside, walked into the living room and looked out the enormous floor to ceiling window to the patio, pool, extensive hardscape and amenities beyond. It was then I noticed another irregularity with the property; a significant addition and change to the house’s exterior hardscape. In between the last occasion when I had seen the home when the purchase contract was negotiated and accepted by both, me and the seller, until this morning, there was the addition made of a very solid, built-in, free-form Cherrywood coffee table, with hanging wooden swings suspended from each of the outdoor Pergola’s four sides, adjacent to the patio’s extensive outdoor kitchen. In all my years, with all the properties and homes I had lived in (too many) or even in my relatively brief but still legit real estate career, I had never encountered a situation where the Seller made such drastic, unsolicited changes/additions to a property after a contract was accepted, unless maybe a physical inspection reflected damages which required remedying? But still; no, I couldn’t recall any instance like this one? What had I gotten myself into? That was not the last occasion when the question popped into mind.
I was told sometime during our purchase negotiations, that even though Ridgeoak was not my dream property, it was, nevertheless, owned by the same man who had originally created the infamous ‘watering hole and gentlemen’s clubhouse I’d fallen in love with during my first visit to Silverado and was locally known as “The Cantina.” Even so, Ridgeoak was still not the man’s personal home. Rather, I was told it was a property which he either rented out, used as a guest house or often allowed a variety of “mistresses” to use? That same man was reputed to be one of the largest car dealers in Texas, and was accustomed to doing what he wanted, when he wanted and how he wanted! Ouch! That statement stung, and was eerily reminiscent of another “outlaw” I knew all too well from the past.
APPARENTLY MORE EXPERIENCES WERE ON THE WAY, BUT WHAT WOULD THE NEXT YEAR IN TEXAS TEACH? “WE’RE ‘FIXIN’ TO FIND OUT.”
By the time, Woody returned with an answer about the landscape massacre, my Nephew (BAM’s father) had arrived on site to say hello and check out the new digs. He and his wife had simultaneously decided on a move to Texas, somewhat in conjunction with ours, and had left California just days after Em, Alex, BAM and I had returned from our whirlwind Nashville/Texas scouting trip. BAM’s parents were eager to find gainful employment and housing, while BAM happily remained with us. That particular Monday morning, though, found Mark more than a little curious, and he went out of his way to visit our new home. He wasn’t present for, nor privy to, the earlier issue of “the landscape massacre” that had me all worked up and to avoid any unnecessary drama, curiously not a typical Mark concern, declared he was going to take a stroll around the house and property. Woody was just finishing explaining that Emma couldn’t answer the question about the landscape dilemma, because she didn’t remember whether the hedges were still there on Thursday’s walk-thru or not, (so much for her competency) when Mark returned from his quick tour of the Ridgeoak property. In his very dry, matter-of-fact, fashion, he asked what I planned to do with the assortment of “toys” left behind in the guest house? “After all, Miss…the deal’s legally closed and so, any remaining items are yours?” “Mark, what are you talking about; what toys?” I hadn’t even made it that far into the property to know what he was referring to, but so far, over the past couple of hours and our first morning as residents of Weatherford, Texas, Ridgeoak was NOT turning out to be representative of the smooth transition I had hoped would occur? Woody was taken by surprise at Mark’s comment too, and suggested we all take a stroll to see what was up? Emma had clearly not done a very thorough examination at Thursday’s final walk-thru, and neither Woody nor I knew what had transpired during that final walk-thru? Woody wasn’t present, but then neither was I… my bad. So much for the well-devised plan I, mistakenly, believed I had put into place for move-in day?
By the time we all walked through the front door of the guest house, you could feel the tension resulting from the “loose ends” of my recent transaction; everyone was a bit on edge and I was surely the worst. The guest house findings were odd. The assortment of items somehow “overlooked” by whomever it was that packed up the property were interesting, to say the least. We stepped inside to find a regulation size, beautiful Mahogany Pool Table, with matching wall-mounted Cue Rack, a very substantial and attractive, table-top Shuffleboard Table, a child’s crib, two enormous Window Valances with beautiful, and what was surely custom, fabric plus three to four medium-sized moving boxes, each carefully taped and stacked in a corner?
I DIDN’T ALREADY HAVE ONE, AND THIS WOULD HAVE SURE MADE A COOL ADDITION TO MY COLLECTION OF MAN-CAVE ACCESSORIES, RIGHT?
Why didn’t I just shut my mouth and keep the items left behind in the guest house? Why did I make such a stink over the chopped down hedge which camouflaged the enormous propane tank? Lastly, why did I pitch such a fit over the huge hanging wooden swings and custom Cherry Wood coffee table that the seller had designed and installed in the outside pergola overlooking the pool prior to move-in day? Answer…aside from being a total dumb**s, I have no damn idea! That may, or may not, be entirely true today…but at the time it absolutely was. Much remained for me to learn.
NO MATTER HOW DISJOINTED AND UNPLEASANT THE FIRST FEW WEEKS OF THE RIDGEOAK MOVE-IN WAS, THOSE TEXAS SKIES AND BAM’S REACTION TO THE WHOLE ADVENTURE WERE BEYOND MEMORABLE… MORE LIKE INCOMPARABLE!
Fast forward a few grueling weeks, filled with more “moving messes” to clean, maladies to remedy, and boom… all of a sudden, it was the Monday before Thanksgiving. A couple months earlier, I had received an invitation from a friend in Athens, Georgia to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with her family in “Dawg territory.” They had enough room for Em, Alex, BAM, A.J. and me to stay with them for the weekend, and we had always had such big fun together, spinning wild ideas into fanciful endeavors, successful fundraisers, lofty business aspirations and other future collaborations. It seemed like a marvelous idea at the time, and something to look forward to after what, had by then, been such a large and stressful move. Plus, who knew if I’d have been able to unpack and find all the things I would need, to turn out a beautiful holiday like Thanksgiving, after only three weeks of moving halfway across the country into a new home? I gratefully accepted, but said we’d stay in a nearby hotel rather than invade their home. After all, our little party of four, no…actually five with A.J. who was driving from T-Town to meet us, would be a pretty big imposition on their modest home, knowing all too well from past experience, the challenge it is to host a holiday of that importance with houseguests on top of the usual family, friends and all the prep an occasion like that requires. But, alas, that plan didn’t go quite as anticipated? By the time the holiday and our trip, even further east, was within sight, BAM’s parents had been spending a good bit of their time with us, as they had yet to find an adequate housing situation, plus we had plenty of room. It seemed only logical that our Thanksgiving plans should meld to accommodate the entirety of our own family, but I was reluctant to ask our Athens friends if we might add two additional adults to the “mix” for the whole holiday weekend? Macy Grey, (check an earlier post “Trust Your Gut,” on 5/31/20 for the reference) and a freak accident on the frigid Monday of November 20, 2017 eliminated the need for me to make the tacky request. The staircase which led from Ridgeoak’s exterior patio, outdoor kitchen and dining area down to the guesthouse was tiled in stone as was the rest of the exterior hardscape, but the stairs had a fairly steep pitch, and the brief couple of Winter months in Weatherford, Texas are more than capable of generating some serious “black ice” action. Macy, with her usual exuberance, followed me that Monday morning down to locate some missing travel items from the storage barn just beyond the guest house, and as Macy leapt from the top of the five stairs to the walkway below, she slipped and took a serious “misstep” upon landing. She cried out and was limping badly as she stood back up and attempted to proceed. For all her savvy, stoicism and desire to please, she wasn’t able to mask the obvious pain she was in. I turned around and slowly coaxed her back to the main house, where she immediately laid down and winced softly. It turns out there’s more than a little truth to the saying “necessity is the mother of invention,” and while we would most definitely be needing a vet moving forward, it was, all of a sudden, immediately essential. I didn’t have my usual resources so I couldn’t immediately produce the number of great vets I might have done previously at Rancho Valiente, but I called the one trusty resource I had been able to count on thus far… Woody, our realtor and now friend. Thirty minutes later, our crew made the 30-mile drive into downtown Weatherford and located the slightly questionable looking office of the vet who came so highly recommended. Regardless of the physical appearance of the clinic, the attending Vet was kind, sharp and efficient. The prognosis wasn’t great, but the outcome was one which would provide Macy Grey with the most immediate, as well as long-term, comfort. Six hours later, we returned to the clinic to pick up my slightly still woozy Australian Shepherd.
MACY GREY WAS A MOST COOPERATIVE, IF
SLIGHTLY FORLORN PATIENT, AS ALEX CARRIED HER FROM THE TRUCK AND INTO THE HOUSE. THE INJURY MIGHT HAVE LOOKED SMALL, BUT COST MACY TWO TOES, WHICH HAD TO BE AMPUTATED AND WOULD DEMAND CAREFUL MONITORING AS WELL AS RE-BANDAGING OVER THE NEXT WEEK TO TEN DAYS. SO MUCH FOR THE BIG TRIP TO ATHENS!
A.J. REROUTED HIS TRIP HOME FROM ALABAMA TO TEXAS INSTEAD OF GEORGIA, AND I CALLED OUR DISAPPOINTED HOSTS TO EXPLAIN WHAT HAD TRANSPIRED. THAT SAID, SOMEHOW MY CREW PULLED TOGETHER A LOVELY LITTLE THANKSGIVING OF OUR OWN…COMPLETE WITH TABLE SETTINGS, AND I EVEN FOUND PA’S BEAUTIFUL ANTIQUE PEWTER CARVING TRAY IN TIME FOR THE HUGE 23 LB. “TOM TURKEY,” WHICH WAS CALLING OUR NAMES.
YOUR PLAN, MY PLAN OR GOD’S PLAN…NO FURTHER EXPLANATION NEEDED!
To each his own, and I try, really, hard not to judge…but for me, “Divine Intervention” is a serious thing. God’s timing is often tricky, yet I continue to hold unwavering faith. My prayers aren’t always answered in the way I intend, particularly when I try to “micromanage” the process and get too specific with my requests…like the prayers detailed in my post, “Chances Are” on 1/25/21, all about begging and bargaining with God to “touch Al’s heart?” Usually though, if I get out of God’s way, let it all go, and put the situation, whatever it may be, solely, in care of the “Big Guy,” good things happen! That’s exactly what occurred shortly after Thanksgiving that year. If we had been in Athens, rather than our new home in Texas, I might have missed the call and opportunity which popped up the next day…Friday? BAM’s parents were off to look at either potential housing options, or attending job interviews, when my cell rang, and I answered to hear Woody’s voice on the other end. “Missy, he said, that Cantina property you loved might be available; do you want to take a closer look?” “Heck yes Woody, and thank you! How soon can we get in to see it?” Woody offered to meet me/us there in an hour, and for one of the very few instances in my life (other than when court and lawyers were included which demanded promptness) I was there not just on time, but early. We pulled in the driveway, exited the car and stood waiting outside the main entrance for Woody to appear. Three hours later, we were back at Ridgeoak, sitting around the breakfast room table drafting a Purchase Contract for 700 Cutters Trail, which was potentially the most soulful property I’d ever seen, much less, maybe, get an opportunity to own. I hadn’t really worked out the exact details, or the “minutiae of numbers,” just yet as to the long-term strategy I’d need to put in place in order for this dream to materialize, but I was determined to try, and that effort would demand a giant leap of faith, and so…I jumped. The offer was presented, a bit of haggling, and several back and forth exchanges followed, but four days later we were “under contract.” The ball was rolling! By this time, and with the Ridgeoak experience as “Exhibit A,” I learned that in Texas, there is no such thing as “escrow.” Real Estate transactions are processed through a title company and are handled very differently from what is California procedure, or the norm as I knew it. This transaction definitely called for a sharp real estate attorney to be involved so MY interests would, for sure, be protected this time around. The Cantina was special and worth every bit of the effort, but also challenging. It came with a vast assortment of road easements, conditions of purchase, and was simultaneously undergoing a lot split during the entirety of the transaction. I wasn’t in contention for, nor interested in, the whole 70+ acres…just the 17 acres upon which all the structures, barns, other horse facilities and pastured land was sited, and were also the parts of the property represented in my offer. Regardless, my little section of 17 acres would still be affected by many extenuating circumstances, and it was essential that I get sound, legal counsel to navigate those factors and exact such a transfer. Neither the lake on the property, nor the duck blind off in the distance were included in what might eventually become my portion of “the dream.” But I didn’t care all that much about those items, as the soulful parts, the history and the “heart” of the property which originally captured my fancy were all right there on the 17 acres written into my offer. The title officer who handled the Cantina transaction was both competent and nice; she didn’t seem to feel the same antipathy for California transplants that several other people had “shared” with us. She was also kind enough to refer me to her favorite attorney in the area and helped me to understand what an absolute “given” a sharp real estate attorney could prove to be in Texas if I really wanted the deal to work! Jim Eagleman was all that she described, and challenged many of my previous experiences regarding the 97% disdain I felt for all things “lawyerly.” Sorrell Trope had set the professional bar so very, very high… at a close to unattainable level for any other legal counsel to follow, and so many of the ones who preceded or followed Sorrell fell awfully short. Little by little, though my feelings and opinion evolved. Jim’s last name was represented on the door of his firm, as was his Father’s, and by the time “The Cantina’s” title was transferred to me, Jim provided me with a much better understanding of real estate transactions in Texas. Jim also educated me regarding the nuances and intricacy of the many small, but vital details which could adversely impact a property with so many inherent challenges present. Over those next several months, we also became friends. If it weren’t for the fact that Jim was married with two littles, he was a man (and a younger one no less…go figure?) who I might have actually fallen for? Jim was one of the small group who joined us to celebrate and christen “The Cantina,” once it became officially mine.
“WHATEVER THE MIND CAN CONCEIVE AND BELIEVE, IT CAN ACHIEVE.” ~ NO TRUER WORDS…
The intimate assemblage of friends who gathered in February to celebrate the occasion of welcoming “The Cantina” to my personal portfolio, included my tiny tribe, minus BAM, whose mother and father abruptly decided after spending Christmas with us, that they wanted to be “parents” again…despite their year-long plus, hiatus. We had the company, too, of real estate agent/friend Woody, his associate Emma; legal counselors Jim, his associate Alana, who happened to live in Silverado also, and her husband a well-known colt-breaker for neighboring ranches. My own Cutting horse trainer and his wife, the ones I credit for initially introducing me to the fabled Cantina, joined us that evening as did our new Ridgeoak neighbors, who were quickly becoming friends and owned one of the leading Cutting Horse Sires in the country. So too, another long-time friend from California who was in Texas with her then boyfriend/horse trainer, competing in “The World’s Greatest Horseman” competition, simultaneously taking place in nearby Ft. Worth’s Will Rogers Equestrian Center, also took part in the fun. Regardless of the minimal furnishings that remained with The Cantina after the transfer from seller to me, Em, Alex and I summoned the energy and excitement we all felt and managed to create a memorable evening filled with camaraderie, good food, libations, great company…and the promise of an exciting future. We were unaware at the time, but would soon discover how many more changes remained.
KUDOS TO PANCHO VILLA AND THIS SUPER COOL BAR…BULLET HOLES AND ALL.
We, especially me, were ecstatic to own The Cantina, but it was a simple fact that some minor “tweaking” was warranted, even desperately needed? A deep scrubbing, thorough cleaning, plus a bit of “patching” was in order, as was a large-scale landscape update and irrigation repair. Additionally, I was excited to do a total renovation of the upstairs apartment, which I planned to make my Master Suite and permanent home. Those were merely the immediate, short term goals. The rest of the downstairs with its very open space served the way we lived to a “T.” With the exception of turning one of the two fairly large bathrooms on the main floor, into a laundry space, the remainder of The Cantina was perfection…a large great room, uber cool Bar, solid kitchen, enormous stone fireplace and enough space to house my pool table, piano, dining room table and a large-scale comfy sectional for both gathering and relaxing. Our long-term agenda included the addition of a very simple, rectangular pool, designed to stay in keeping with the theme of the Cantina but acting as a natural transition and patio segue from the main house to a 1400+ square foot outlier building, perfectly suited for transformation into a space for A.J. when he was home, as well as providing an adjacent guest suite, and both would include “en-suite” baths. Plans had been drawn, property staked, and we were good to go…ready, set, start. There was also some “Barndominium” (I swear, it’s a thing!) shopping going on, which was intended to serve as an almost instantaneous home for Em and Alex, rather than waiting out the construction time, and expense of a ground-up, “new build.” The Cantina’s 17-acre site had at least two, maybe three areas, which would easily accommodate such a structure, and our general contractor said the addition of buildings like that were very common practice. When delivered and ready for use, it could be artfully camouflaged with landscaping to assuage any unseemly connection to the land. It’s funny how life presents its opportunities; they don’t always happen exactly when we’d like them too, but nonetheless… show up they do! I had, literally, just gotten Ridgeoak totally settled and adjusted exactly to my liking, when The Cantina became a reality. I definitely did NOT want, need, nor could sustain, the care and keeping of both properties, but when the entirety of our “Cantina plan” was realized, I knew it would be perfect, for each of the human, equine, canine and feline lives that would call it home! Still, there was much to do before we could cross that specific finish line. Getting Ridgeoak on the market…and sold would need to jive, time-wise, with the completion and readiness of the Cantina’s new upstairs Master Suite, which is what we set about accomplishing first. A.J. was safely ensconced back at school in Alabama, and Woody quickly found a rental for Em and Alex within Silverado, so we would all be in close proximity in order to work together, get this dream realized, and get Ridgeoak gone…post haste! Regardless of the lavish setting, plethora of interior spaces and square footage, together with the dreamy pool-set up, exterior hardscape and outrageously cool outdoor kitchen, bar and dining areas, there was nothing about Ridgeoak which rivalled, or could hold a candle to, the soul, magic and potential of my Cantina… 700 Cutters Trail.
AFTER RANCHO VALIENTE, EM, ALEX AND I WERE ALL PRETTY DAMN ADEPT AT JUGGLING SEVERAL BALLS AT ONE TIME AND THE SPRING OF 2018 WOULD PROVE NO EXCEPTION.
We spent our days immersed at the Cantina, caring for our 4-legged crew, overseeing, guiding the construction, and choosing all the materials, colors etcetera for the redo of the upstairs apartment as well as executing the rest of the property updates, mourning the absence of BAM, marketing Ridgeoak, waiting for its sale and absorbing every last little detail that our Texas life offered which included the introduction to some wonderful and… some not so wonderful places and items. A simple excursion to “Uncle Julio’s” and/or “Central Market” just outside of Ft. Worth could easily become an all-day jaunt, as could a trip to The Stockyards. The lively distraction that a show at Billy Bob’s provided was huge fun and that’s before even getting me started on Maverick Fine Western Wear…a seriously awesome, albeit extremely dangerous, shopping temptation, but then so were the array of home stores I adored frequenting, like Brumbaugh’s or Simple Things? Never mind that I already had an RV garage filled to the rim with excess furnishings. I suppose it was that same reality which made the not-so-exciting or fun practice of “window shopping” a teensy bit more palatable? I had to ration my shopping and budget as there was a lengthy list of projects to be completed and a house to be sold before I could spend very much…if at all? That’s where the “not so fun introductions” began! Staying home, whether at Ridgeoak or the Cantina, made our education and the discovery of “Texas” wildlife happen fast. Coyotes suspended from property fences awaiting financial compensation from local agricultural agencies (for real) and snakes of all descriptions slithering their way through the varying landscapes, were joined by a “healthy” population of other creepy crawlers. Poisonous centipedes were common, and then there were the Scorpions, lots of them…inside, outside and everywhere. The little devils weren’t choosy, and were sure to make you think twice before walking around barefoot? I’ve never gone through so much ground cinnamon in my life, but once I heard about its “alleged” scorpion deterrent powers coupled with Lavender essential oil, the brown, ground spice lined the entire perimeter of my house, pulling a double shift at points of entry, like the garage, doorways, window sills, etc… It probably makes sense to assume that I’m beyond ok to confess that scorpions are one of God’s creatures that I absolutely refuse to pray for!
YOU’VE GOT TO LEARN TO TAKE THE GOOD WITH THE BAD…OR, IS IT THE OTHER WAY AROUND?
So too, before my time in Texas, I wasn’t really aware of the enigma and horror known as “kill pens?” The thought of so many innocent animals spending their final days on the way to a “meat market” pained me and resulted in a heartbreaking but powerful lesson. Quite accidentally, I was introduced to an especially active, such business, which resulted in the purchase/adoption/rescue of two mini-horses, a pony and a miniature donkey! Fiesta, the donkey, is thankfully, still alive and thriving. Sadly, the poor remaining babies didn’t make it much longer than three to four months, or five weeks in the case of that precious baby, paint horse mini, shown above in the picture with Fiesta and myself. Despite the quarantine time, veterinary fees, medical care, a loving home with good nutrition, a corrective horseshoer and plenty of attention, they never stood a chance. The kill pens and their operators knew that too, but they “sucker” the general public into thinking “we can make a change and are doing a good deed?” One in fourteen odds aren’t a bet I’m willing to wager any longer, particularly when the kill pens are still operating and take their “cut” regardless of the outcome. The two tiny infant kittens that Alex miraculously heard “mewing” from underneath the Cantina’s ‘hotwalker’ one early Summer, Sunday evening, and promptly delivered to Em and I for help, fared far better. There’s was a bottle-fed, coddled and secure life. Both “Bob” and “Pasquina” (go figure on the names?) made for two delightfully devilish additions to 700 Cutters Trail.
~~~~~
June, July and August in Texas are beastly months…or at least they were in 2018, and while I tried to rationalize, or delude myself, that my Son’s decision and declaration that he was not coming “home” for the Summer was a consequence of the horrifically hot temperatures in Texas, I was torn between a feeling of devastation, a bit of relief, and an odd pang that trouble was ahead? It had NEVER occurred to me that A.J. might not come home…unless that “home” was in California? But then too, remember, I have often admitted to being a slow study! Regardless of my “questionable” I.Q. …the fact remains that from the date of Al’s and my divorce, the divisiveness which followed, and the subsequent slow healing that continued to occur for years, both my kid’s relationship with their Father was “strained” to say the least. From 2010 through 2017, the duration of our years spent at Rancho Valiente, we (A.J., myself, Em, Alex, as well as my Mom, and BAM for varying stints) lived not even a mile down Roblar, the very same road, from our original home in Santa Ynez purchased a year and a half before A.J.’s birth, and was also where Al still continued to reside. In the entirety of those seven years, neither of our children spent more than a night or two consecutively with their Father, and even more notably, Al never made any attempt to change that? He never asked for, or exercised our joint custody provision for A.J; he never responded to any of the notifications I gave him about A.J.’s activities; he never attended any of those same activities, other than TWO parent/teacher school conferences; and he never acknowledged my attempts to share pertinent information, unless it involved a trip to an Emergency Room, and then his text response would read…”thanks for letting me know.” I didn’t get it… but that was the least of what I didn’t understand. So, when A.J. called (mid-“April-ish”) on a relatively “mild” (insert serious sarcasm here) 99* Texas day to say he was planning to spend the Summer in Alabama taking an additional class and working, I was surprised. It wasn’t until he, falteringly, relayed to me that he and his relatively recent girlfriend, Kristin, were going to spend the first ten days in June with his Father “at home” in Santa Ynez, that I felt myself having to catch my breath, sit down, and fight to absorb the words I was hearing, while attempting to recover from the “sucker punch “I just felt? I don’t remember what I replied, or if I was able to speak at all?
“WHAT THE HELL HAD I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?”
It was just one week before A.J. called with his “summer news,” that Em, Alex and I returned to Ridgeoak, which still hadn’t sold, from an excursion to Central Market one “sultry” (there are only so many attractive ways to disguise the word “excruciating”) Thursday afternoon, and walked in the back hallway from the garage leading past the laundry room, into the kitchen, when…with grocery bags filling our arms, I looked down and shrieked. For certain, one grocery bag was dropped onto the wood floor below, possibly more, but this was maybe the fifth instance when one of those vile creatures appeared INSIDE my lovely home…WTF! Em, Alex and I all looked at one another, exchanging “tells,” and quickly stomped the life out of that damn, Striped Bark Brown Scorpion. There weren’t enough exterminators, poison or holistic remedies in the world to comfort me that day.
It was still only mid-April, but “hotter than Hades,” and I had no idea what to do next? I now owned not just one, but two places in Texas, and as much as I adored my beloved Cantina, I wasn’t sure that the legendary Pancho Villa bar could possibly hold enough booze to quell my dislike for Scorpions, the extreme heat, and host of other “distasteful” issues, like A.J.’s defection, which continued presenting themselves? What to do? I had already created a “FB” page for The Cantina, proposed as a potential Event Venue in the future, and my loving tribute and write-up about The Cantina’s virtues was almost convincing enough to outweigh the negatives on my pro/con list? We might be able to temporarily mask the unpleasant thoughts of scorpions, snakes and the blazing heat, but would we, actually, be able to survive the long term vision and see “a first event?” Already, we were having to ice the horses faces to prevent nose bleeds and took turns holding chilled towels atop the horses backs to provide relief from the ghastly temperatures, which was in stark contrast to January’s use of “blow dryers” to thaw the icicles, which clung to the horse’s whiskers?
THE MIRRORED, DISCO, SADDLE IN THE CANTINA’S “FUTURE EVENT PAVILION,” COMBINED WITH THOSE SPECTACULAR SUNSETS WERE PRETTY DARN COOL, BUT WERE THEY COOL ENOUGH TO WITHSTAND A MYRIAD OF OTHER PRESSURES?
Before we, and The Cantina, ever reached the point of hosting a legit event, A.J.’s last visit to Texas had occurred. I just hadn’t realized it yet? A.J.’s spring break, also just happened to coincide with a visit from our Athens, Georgia friends, the ones we had missed at Thanksgiving, but were visiting us now in our new locale. Thankfully, that all happened and took place back in March when the Scorpions must have still been hibernating? Regardless, we enjoyed a lovely, if brief, respite. We celebrated A.J.’s visit, our friend’s company, the occasion of Cheryl’s Birthday, The Cantina and its future potential. My ‘friend” Cheryl hosts a yearly gathering/summit, designed to inspire entrepreneurs and burgeoning influencers. With that idea in mind, and per usual, the two of us managed to “cook up” a plan or two for bringing an additional group, or summit to Texas, for a two-three day event which would include a focus on wellness, brainstorming, branding inspiration, future collaborations, and The Cantina. In typical fashion, I always go ALL in and as such, was already picturing the spectacular fun, collaborative networking, and possibilities that such a gathering might spark? I already possessed a whimsical and fascinating location from which to host such a gathering, and I could easily envision entertaining a smallish group of 20-30, with Bicycle rides through Silverado, a “wellness chef” preparing meals, a fitness expert giving classes, a field trip or two to “local” hot spots like Billy Bobs in Ft. Worth, daytime therapy visits with the menagerie of four-legged Angels living at The Cantina, nighttime Wine or Whiskey tastings at “Pancho Villa’s bar” and a closing evening event complete with great BBQ and maybe even a Square Dance held below the Lighted, Mirrored Disco Saddle in The Cantina’s pavilion! My brain runs wild…
THE FURTHEST THAT LITTLE FANTASY TOOK US WAS A TRIP TO BILLY BOB’S ON THE FRIDAY EVENING OF WHAT HAS NOW BECOME AN INFAMOUS OCCASION AND MEMORY. I HAD PURCHASED A TABLE, FRONT ROW, FOR ALL 7 OF US TO TAKE IN THE “LO-CASH” CONCERT SCHEDULED THAT WEEKEND.
Our Georgia friends treated us to dinner first, which was followed by the concert and good fun. Nevertheless, the evening ended up being a bit of a sh** show. Thankfully I had the foresight to hire a driver for the evening, but I hadn’t counted on the anger, attitude and belligerence, my then 21-year old son must have been feeling and proceeded to exhibit. Not only did A.J., literally, “drop” me on the dance floor early in the evening…surely the result of too much “liquid courage,” but his sister was later compelled to “drop” him, in order to get him to bed sometime around 2:00 a.m.? Not our family’s finest moment. The next day, A.J. left for his return to Tuscaloosa. The new girlfriend was due back on campus, and she was apparently pretty much the driving force in his life at the time. A driver took him to the Dallas airport; A.J. let me know when he landed in Birmingham safely, and though I had no clue at the time, it pains me now when I recall that was the last time he ever came home.
I’VE ALWAYS BEEN A HUGE GEORGE STRAIT FAN, AND ONE OF MY FAVORITE TUNES OF HIS (FOR A WHOLE HOST OF REASONS) TOOK ON A WHOLE NEW MEANING WITH THE CLOSING OF THAT TRIP. TO THAT END, “THE COWBOY RIDES AWAY” WILL NEVER MEAN,THE SAME FOR ME!
There’s more to say, and the story doesn’t end here. This particular post must be destined to be a “3-4 parter” kind of thing…but it’s also about time for another smooth “segue,” don’t you think? I’ve loved the adding of lyrics and song suggestions to my past few posts, and so I’m going to add another one here. It may or may not make sense, and you may or may not listen, but please do? For a multitude of wildly appropriate reasons…this one works for me right about now! Give it a go; ask your “Siri” or whatever device you prefer, to play…“Timing Is Everything,” by Trace Adkins or Garret Hedlund. The song was part of the soundtrack to the movie “Country Strong,” also another song from the same movie; and equally apt title. They’re both packed with some true and powerful stuff!
THE END…for now, but hold on, Part 3 is on its way!