Still At the Ranch

Tonight is our 7th day left on the mainland. And possibly the first day I've actually considered just going back home. 

The large portion of the day was a waste. Over wine consumption combined with a terrible nights rest resulted in a late waking. I ended up on the couch some time around 3 am. Our air mattress was sabotaged by the house cat, after 3 months of loyal service. We awoke on a wave of deflated plastic. Too late and too noisy to keep refilling. I tried of course but immediately got scolded, so I went straight to the couch. I hate being scolded. My return to the bed in the later morning was really for only one reason, which was shot down. Apparently that happened the night before, I missed it. I hate it when I lose memory. It happens too often. And the sex doesn't these days. There's not much privacy here, and a child. So gone are our days of grilled cheese served post orgasm by best friend roommates.

We watched an entire movie while drinking coffee. I made guac. Danny started a pot roast. I don't think I left the house until sunset. I stomp around the property trying not to cry about whatever tone has just pissed me off from Danny the D'. I hate watching movies. Especially more than one per day. We were on our 4th or 5th lengthy feature film. I guess I ask too many questions. So instead of bothering everyone with my speaking and inquiring about the stupidity of the new Ninja Turtle movie, I hike around the property in search of the mountain lion cat that is supposed to be around with a cub or two. 

I've always envisioned my life ending via mountain cat devouring. Excitement was in the air. I considered my options for fight should I happen to make the encounter. Surely I'm going to try to take a photo. Surely it will be blurry. I wonder if my Coors Light can will be of any diversion to the cat. If I throw it, will it be scared and run off? Or will it ignite its anger inducing a full on attack? I didn't see the cat, but a few bucks were scared shitless as I shuffled down the gravel road. 

The entire exchange reminds of the time I got mad at my parents and stormed off at night. Armed only with a walk man, I listened to Janies' Got A Gun over and over. Screaming "Run away run away" as I made laps around the duck pound in the neighboring apartment complex. When I finally decide to return I'm rather disappointed that no one even noticed my absence. 

In the present I suppose I take some comfort when Danny asked where I went to and said he missed me as he leaned over to kiss me. Naturally ignored him and continue to stay tucked behind the truck.

"Pity party of one. Now seating." Says the hostess. "I'm not hungry." I tell her. 

I end the day defacing a poster of four puppies with black sharpie with a ten year old. Mustaches all around. One had a top hat. One was a clown. The child's mind entertains me greatly. 

I think she stole my sharpie. . . 

The Ranch

"Jordan Wine. The remnants. Taste so good." Heidi explains as the first of three large bottles is popped open.

There's a lot of wine here. Not because its indigenous to the area, more because its intoxicating, delicious and cuts down on the scattering of beer cans. Beer has been given a bad name by one too many ex men. The children are so sensitive to any reminder of their past. Long days at the barn conducting RV Resort business are followed up with a round table of ladies and a bottle or 3 (or box) of red wine. Conversation is strictly about business plans. Ideas and wine flow. A food truck called the Gypsy Wagon, chili and corn bread first to keep it simple. Then on to ideas of making box wine Koozies. And hosting a farmers markets. Arts and studio time has been a common thread in all our pasts.

Daniel installed an antenna to speed up the internet today. This dude came up and asked him what was going on and wanted to know why he could not access youtube. "Youtube? the only thing blocked from the net in this park is porn." I'm assuming he dropped his gaze to the rocks and shuffled back to his trailer.

Tonight's evening was rather exciting compared to the regular days of tether ball and watching butterflies emerge from cocoons in mason jars. Some fella had gotten to rough housing his old lady. A lady in fact but from a distance she might as well been a child. 25 years old with no more than 4 feet and 2 inches between her hair and the ground. A real young couple, living in their mom's RV. Of course, he's been unemployed for a year and a half now and she's quit her job to take up school.

To add to the cliché, as it turns out, he was the same guy inquiring about the youtube. You have to wonder if maybe that was not the start of the fight.

The cops showed up did not do much other than act like dicks. The office called his mom. She got a ride to a discrete women's shelter, where they only allow two shirts and one blanket per woman. We gave her a blanket from the house. And took her dog, named Hope, for the evening. Then a kid on a bike road by and asked "Is ok if we come back down and play now that the PoPo is gone."

When he road off at least 4 adults turned to me and asked, "Did that kid just say PoPo?"