Morning # 2, in Flame.  Last night was much much much better.  My obsessive search for dog beds paid off.  Before I talk about the payoff, lemme tell you about my obsessive search and another demonstration of a brain on stress.  As I mentioned yesterday, the dogs did not have a fun first night and therefore we did not have a fun first night either… Determined to create some comfort for dogs, I went seeking beds that wouldn’t take up the entire tiny floor space yet would create the right amount of comfort for our furry children.  Petsmart had a pair in lovely burnt orange – both weather proof and equipped with carrying handles!  Score!  That is until my baby Tigger settled in to one as I drove around town and I noticed the far from tranquil sound that the “weather proof” cover created.  Tramping through a pile of Christmas wrapping paper was the fine melody.  Out of the frying pan and into the fire, you might say. 

Here’s where the stress response kicks in.  Seemingly out of time to get to yet another dog supply store, I begin to obsess, the thoughts making hopeless circles in my already taxed mind.  Did I already remove the tag?  Should I return it?  Will it be ok?  But I like the orange material.  What if we put the “fleece” pads over it?  Will that work?  What will David think?  Will they take it back tomorrow?  Over and over these considerations rounded the corners of my brain with no solution in site.  In conversations with multiple friends, this was the only thing I could express.  The dog beds… what do I do about the dog beds.  I began to panic – a Niagara falls of tears dangerously close to the surface.  I knew fatigue was setting in as well bringing its own gifts to my stress cycle.  I was going under. 

Finally, I made a decision and barely made the closing time of the last Petsmart on the block.  Hauling 2 beds and Tigger into the store, in the 7 minutes before the doors were locked, I chose quieter albeit larger beds.  Did this calm my tired mind, you ask?  Not a bit!  All the way up the hill I questioned my choice.  These beds were huge – and the material not as durable.  Would David scorn me for my choice?  What if I couldn’t take these back?  I don’t want to waste any money!  I just want my dogs to be happy… on and on this refreshed rumination went.  Using the best of my tools, I changed the thought only to have it pop back.  I prayed, only to return to the loop.  I sang, only to make up songs about dog beds.  I danced on the brink of hysteria, yet never quite fell off. 

Opening the door to Flame, I made the immediate request of needing love to bathe my angsty mind.  David, of course, rose to the occasion.  And, we agreed to only bring one of the two giant beds in.  The result:  The dogs slept through the night and so did we.  I didn’t even get up for my 4am pee!  A fricken miracle. 

This morning feels better.  David is working out the Internet as I type.  We have 2 generators – a small one to run the trailer and a larger one to run the well pump so we may even have water today.  We hope to make time to set up the dog fence later so these pups can run free.  So far this morning there has been no panting or excessive pacing by either the dogs – or me and David.  Coffee is good and strong, we have made our beds, David bought more AstroTurf to expand our “lawn” and I have a day here – at my new home – to settle and to speak with a few of my loyal clients.  

I think we are doing pretty well for day 2 in Flame.  She is a sweet space with red counter tops, tooled leather accents and prevalent western motif including cowboy curtains, sheets and sheriff star drawer pulls.  The dogs lie quietly – Tigger now on David’s bed and Roscoe on the giant Petsmart procurement.  I am sipping my coffee and gazing out the window at the altered landscape.  We are fitting back in here.  It’s quieter in the area minus the 20 other families who used to occupy space here.  Even though most of us have large parcels and can’t see each other the night feels stiller.  I feel the absence of these people.  It’s not unpleasant, just distinct and a little strange.  I believe we are the only “displaced” people who have returned so far. 

I am happy to be here.  This land is special even in its blackened and burnt state.  I used to wander around our magical fairy forest seeing all sorts of perches and spots where I wanted to come back and spend more time.  Now it is altered – the perches are covered in soot and the fairies seem to be absent.  I imagine they are still here, metamorphosing too, awaiting their transformation to reemerge – this time tougher, wittier, and edgier, with a dark hard-earned beauty.  I will wait for them and with them – and emerge that way too.