The Interview

All photographs copyrighted by Wyatt & Rachelle Black 2007

So, I am so busy right now I though I'd just repost this interview from my dear friend Shrinky, (you can meet her at http://www.shrinky1.blogspot.com/ ( I love you Girl!!)

I promise to write a new and, er, fascinating post real soon, in the meantime- here goes!

Slainte~

Rachelle


Carol: Hello bonny lass,

Where are you hoofing it off to then? No fair, you were only gone a little while back ago, I'm only just recovering from the last time you up and left (abandonment issues) . Any-hows, thought I'd try and pose a few questions to make your brain bleed. (And don't flip the finger at the computer, I can still see you, you know!) Alright, pretend you still smoke and inhale deeply, here we go..
Good luck, bonny lass, I look forward to a good read! x

1) A nice, easy one to start, to lull you in to a false sense of security. I know both of your children are very musical, but I am intrigued as to how they discovered such a love of Celtic music. Is it in their blood?

Here they are both playing the Irish whistle together. They both play several different instruments in their Celtic group.

Well, certainly it is on their blood! :)) I am a Morrison by birth, and have researched my family line for my da who is just figuring it all out! LOL..... but I have always loved Celtic music, I played the piano as a child, composition, theory, performing, the whole ball of wax.
I tried to expose both of them to many different types of music while they were growing up, and hence they both have very diverse musical tastes. Cameron was my first, and he showed a very early aptitude for all things musical. His nickname is "Velcro Boy" for his ability to pick up an instrument, hear a tune, then commit it to memory and go on to play it perfectly. Codi has had to work a little harder, but she has a very good ear and has taught herself the fiddle and the flute. No small feat!

When an opportunity came up for my kids to join a Celtic group while learning their new instruments at that time (Irish whistle and guitar), we jumped at it, and it inspired me to learn how to play the fiddle. Which I do, very poorly LOL!! The kids have been in their group for 5 years now, and have won several awards for their efforts. My daughter also sings in a classic rock group, and my son plays guitar and drums in both a classic rock group, and in his High School Drumline. They took second place in their division this year!
As they grow older, they are interested in branching out beyond their Celtic roots, but they still hold a deep love for the music. It truly is beautiful and touches their hearts. As their little Celtic group has sort of dissapated this last year, as a family we have committed to continuing our learning, with me picking up the Bodhran to accompany them.

2) Are both of your parents still alive? Together? Can you reconcile your childhood experiences with your mother as she is today - was she a different person then, was it her illness that made her do the things she did, or do you feel she still could have made better choices?


Wow, well here goes- but remember, you asked for it!! Yes, they are both alive still. They were married young, childhood sweethearts from a troubled youth filled with boarding homes and foster care. They had my sister, who is much older than me. Then they divorced, and married other people. My father had 4 children with Maureen, his second wife. Two of them were little boys who didn't live beyond two days. The other two were my brother and sister, Jeff and Cindy.
My mother meanwhile, had no children with Ken, but formed a lifetime friendship with him and his subsequent family that lasted through the years, in fact just last week Ken died, and mo mom was there for the funeral.
Then they both got divorced from their respective mates, and they remarried each other.
They had me, and then as a last ditch effort to save their failing marriage, they had my little brother.
When I was 11 years old and my brother 5, they divorced again. My father remarried a woman just 6 months later, who had 8 children........ go figure.
My mother had a breakdown, and didn't remarry until 1990, when she met my Poppa- whom I believe saved her life.
My father has apologized many times over the years for not being there when I was a child, and has tried to make it up, we have a very nice relationship now.

Whew..... so, there it is in a nutshell.

Mother was a very different person then from who she is now. She really didn't have the skills to be a parent, and then she was forced to be one alone for years. Combine that with her fragile mental state, and her drug dependancy and she didn't stand a chance. For many years I was angry, just plain mad. It wasn't until I got sober, and had my son Cameron, that I was able to get to a place in my heart where I could even have a relationship with her. And she certainly had a lot of soul searching to do herself when she finally realized just how screwed up my life was. I don't know, could she have made better choices? I think yes, and no. Sometimes when we are so sick, we can't do anything but keep our heads above water. But also, I know as a mother, we always have choices. No matter how mad I was, I made the choice NOT to beat my children. And to get help when I needed it.
So, what it comes down to is the fact that we can't change the past, no matter how much we might want to. All we can do is live for the future, and in my future there is a mother whom I love, and accept for who she is. And I am glad. We are still learning about each other, and every year the layers peel back to reveal new secrets that we then shake out into the fresh air, and then discard- never looking back at them again. It is the only way I have found I can go on with her.


3) How did your older brother's death affect you?


Wow, aren't pulling any punches are you? :))
Okay.... well my brother committed suicide when I was only 15 years old, he was 21. He hadn't been living at home for a while, he was in Utah. I got a call from my mother while I was at a friend's house, playing quarters as a matter of fact.... drinking Schlitz malt liquor and getting plastered. I came home to find my mother in the house with all the drapes pulled, pitch black. She was Jeff's "California Mom" and she loved him dearly, and had helped to raise him. She told me my brother had died. She didn't want to tell me how, but eventually she did. I was only told he killed himself with a gun.
For about 10 years after his death- I got no more information than that. I was not allowed to go to his funeral, to this day I have never been to his gravesite.
My father refused to talk about Jeff. He couldn't even speak his name. So I lived with a hole in my heart that couldn't even begin to heal until I was an adult and finally got all the details from my older sister, who couldn't believe I didn't know anything.
Already barely keeping my own head above water, this I believe, just pushed me under for many years. I wrote a poem in the 8th grade about him, but the undercurrents of loss and grief never truly went away.
There is other history there with him that I am unable to share with everyone, but suffice it to say, it only compounded the issues I had to deal with upon his death.
My mother, who at this time wasn't beating me much anymore but was totally unable to cope with me as a teenager, couldn't turn to my father (whom she had never gotten over losing) so she just shut me out completely. I had no one to turn to, so I turned to alcohol and drugs even more than I had before. I dropped out of high school to take full time ROP and moved out when I was 16.
When I finally was given all the bits and pieces of his life and the tragedy that he brought upon himself, I had to learn to forgive him. Hard to forgive someone who is dead. But I have, and I look forward to hugging him someday beyond the veil, and telling him that I love him, so very much.


4) You have a dear, gentle brother who lives with autism, and from reading both of your blogs I know how close he is to you. What impact has he had on your life?

Well, my sister and I tease him about being "The Golden Child" because he missed out on mom when she was completely out of control, but there were plenty of times I had to protect him from goings on in our home. I always felt like he was mine, I think that sense of responsibility started before he was even born. From the day of his birth I took him under my arm and as long as I lived at home, I took care of him and made sure he was safe from all the craziness as much as I could. As an adult I have been his advocate during many court procedures and fights he has had to go through to receive benefits due him. I guess I am a little overprotective :))
Jamey makes me want to be a better person. His kindness and gentle nature inspire me to desire more from myself. He helped shape me as a protector of those who who can't speak for themselves. Something I have carried on in my career choice through my whole life.
I can't imagine a world without him in it, or a world where he isn't exactly as he is.

5) If money were no object, how would you like to spend your life - you can by-pass all the charity work, we'll take that as read. AFTER you have saved the planet, what then?

hmmmm...... hard to think beyond saving the planet, you know me too well!!
I think I would live in the country, somewhere in Utah or Montana I think, with my family.
I would send my children to Juliard. Make sure my hubby never had to work again.
I would have every kind of animal I have ever wanted, and I would take in every stray dog or cat I could. Then I would be a foster mother. For infants born to alcoholic or drug addicted parents. I would love them, care for them, and if possible ready them for adoption. Of course, I would adopt all those no one wanted.
I would buy a house for my mother, brand new with everything she wanted. I would buy a house for my brother and Giselle.
Then I would send my dad to Schick to make him stop smoking...... kidding!
I would travel to Ireland and Scotland, and then stop by the Island of Mann to visit my dear friend there.
Hire a housecleaner!!!!!
I think that's enough, don't you? *wink*
Thanks for the interview dear, I hope you all enjoyed a deeper look into my sordid past -ha-ha-
Slainte~
Rachelle

My mother

My mom's "Millennial Teddy Bears"

This is going to be a long post, just thought I'd let you know upfront so you can run now!

Sometimes as we go through life, we are fortunate enough to learn important lessons along the way. Sometimes, they are lessons learned, sadly, too late.
Such is my life. Lessons I have learned have been both harsh, and illuminating.

The most important lesson I learned was how to love my mother.
My mother will be the first to tell anyone that she was NOT the best mother. She had a hard life, in and out of boarding schools, abused at a vulnerable age by her step father, and then abandoned by her mother when she refused to face the truth about the man she was married to, my mother had to fend for herself- something she was not good at.

Married young to my father, the both of them clueless about parenting, she went through life without the necessary skills required for the most basic of parenting. Not good at coping with stress, she took out her anger and feelings of helplessness on her children. My sister and I being the most likely targets. She is 14 years older than I, and when I was eight- she got married and left, never to return. I remember crying at her wedding, because I knew with her gone, it would be so much worse for me...

Often, I was jealous. Mom had these 'adopted' children all over the neighborhood who came to her for advice and love. I felt like I was really the adopted one. I was embarrased to have my friends over, and one time I lost a friend due to my mother and her behavior. Couldn't these other 'children' see it? Of course not, because she was a completely different person with them than she was with me.

Life in our home was hard, it was filled with anger, and frustration. My father left when I was 11 and my little brother was only five. He said that my brother's disability was too hard to handle. Then he married a woman with seven children...

My mother fell completely apart after he left. As if things weren't bad before he left, now there was no buffer between my mother and her children.
Jamey got the best of mom. For some reason, his disability brought out the best in her. She fought for him to receive a good education, and learned everything she could about Autism. Her energy was expended in a positive way.

When I was little, all I could think of was, 'what did I do?' when she would go off. I tried to be a good girl, and was meek and mild. After the abuse that happened to me at age nine, I was a different child. I started drinking at age 13, and by 15 was an alcoholic. It was a great way to get away from everything.

I wasn't exactly the perfect teenager, that's certain. I was wayward, and defiant. After I got big enough, I would fight back (never physically), I certainly was not going to just sit back and take it anymore.
I remember being terrified of my mother, even at age 16 she could get me to cower in a corner...

I left home when I was 16, worked full time outside of the home, and only went back home at age 18 for a place to keep my stuff.
Life was hard between my mother and I, and I blamed her for a lot of things. Certainly the physical and mental abuse was something we could never get over, and I resigned myself to the fact that we would never have a relationship beyond civility.

Then, I got sober. I got married shortly after, and got pregnant right away. Life took on a new perspective, and I realized I was going to be a mother, but I had no idea how to be one. I only knew I didn't want to be like my mother was. I took parenting classes, and went back to church.
But something was missing. It was my mother.

Long story short?
My Father in Heaven changed my heart, and He made it possible for me to forgive my mother over time, and to be able to reforge a relationship with her that at this time I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

Mom also learned some new things, how to accept responsibility, to not try and guilt me into anything, and how to heal some of her own wounds.

This is, needless to say, the highly abridged version of our relationship. Just to set the tone for my experience this past week.
Mom needed to have gallbladder surgery, and at age 76, she isn't the spring chicken she used to be. So I made arrangments to go and be with her to help her the Tuesday she went in. I was going to leave Wednesday, and come home. My daughter decided to stay with her to help her.
As I spent time there, I realized something profound. My mother is getting old.
She isn't going to be around forever, and there will come a time when I will not have her in my life anymore.

This scared me to death. I stayed until Thursday, then went home, crying all the way. Then I went back Saturday morning, and came home Monday, crying some more. I didn't want to leave her. She lives about 2 1/2 hours away, and with the ranch here, I am pretty tied down.
I am so glad I had the time to spend with her, and I can't wait to see her again.

While I was there, I met someone pretty special. His name is Teddy, and here is his story, as written by my mother.

Bears on a shelf in the "Teddy Bear Room"

Hi, my name is Teddy, and this is my story.

Where am I? The last thing I remember, I was sitting on a pretty pink bed, playing with my little girl. Then things changed fast. People came in the middle of the night, and I heard the words, "very sick, hospital" and my little girl's mommy was crying.

Several days go by, there is a big black car outside taking my girl's mommy and daddy away. The house is very quiet for a long time, I have no one to hold me or love me. The next thing I know I'm in a big box with my friends. We all used to play with my litle girl. Now I am in this strange place with all kinds of different toys, but my friends are gone.

I hear words like, "Sell all the toys, and everything else." So I wait to see what selling us meant.

A little boy says he wants to buy a train, laughing, he went away with his train. A little girl says she wants a doll, her mommy bought it for her and she was laughing.

Now I understand! We were here to make people happy! So I sat up straight, as straight as my bent legs could be, and I waited, and I waited. All around me toys weregoing home to their new families, except for me.

The next thing I knew, I was at the bottom of the pile of toys, standing on my head! No one could buy me while I was upside down, they couldn't see how cute I was!

Then I felt something pulling on my leg, I heard, "Hello Teddy, what are you doing under all these toys?"

I got a big hug, and my new mistress said, "I have never had a teddy bear before. Now I do, because you are going home with me.

Now the lady squeezed me again, then she laughed! And I said to myself, I like this, I could get used to this loving very easily.

We got into something called a car, and she said, "You are going to be my co-pilot now, and we can be with each other all the time."

I have been her friend, and her companion, and get hugs just about every day, and I have a permanent place on her bed. And the best part is I am giving love to a lonely woman, cause my new mistress is 76 years young!

I have been all over the place with her, for 25 years! I have loads of new friends, here are some pictures of them, they have their very own room, called the Teddy Bear room. But I get to sleep with mommy! So, I heard about this B.t. Bear Esquire, and I thought I'd share some pictures with him. There are several 'not-a-bears' who live here too, but our bearyness is rubbing off on them, I can tell!

If you look close, you will see how my legs are just perfectly porportioned so as to sit on my mommy's hip and hug her. Perfect!

Here I am surrounded by my new friends in the bear room!
One of the beary nice shelves.
Mr. Genteel Bear.

I hope you enjoyed my story!

I love you mom, and I'm glad you were a lesson I learned- before it was too late.

Love,

Rachelle

Life's a dance, we learn as we go....

Hi there loyal readers,
Well, I am currently on cria watch, so I am pretty much Night of the Living dead these days. Not fully capable of functioning on a cerebral level. I thought I'd revamp an old post I did over a year ago when I first started blogging.
I really liked the premise behind the post, but thought I could do better. So, I managed to refresh it and here it is.
I hope you like it!

So I am just sitting here thinking about life. I know, I know, deep thoughts for such a... HEY!!! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ANYWAY?!?! I can read your mind you know.

Anywho- as you know, I love pictures. I hate being in front of the camera, but would hide behind one forever. That said, I don't scrapbook, or have a million photo albums and I have no idea where all my kid's baby pictures all are, I just know there are a lot of them. I like pictures. Taking them and looking at them.

I can go to a total stranger's house and spend hours looking through their photo albums. Weird? Maybe. But there is something very magical about photos. Did you know that in some cultures people believe that to take a picture of them means you are actually taking a part of their spirit? Like a part of their soul goes into the picture, never to come back into their body again. I have read stories about those same people thinking they were marked for death after someone has not respected that belief and taken a photo of them anyway. And of that person dying not long after.
How persuasive are beliefs.

Interesting to me..... when I was a child, I thought that pictures could "see" me. Like the photo was aware of what I was doing, saying, etc... and I would not have any photographs in my room. Paintings were fine, but only if they weren't of people. People in pictures, I was sure of this, moved at will when no one was looking. I spent long hours wondering where they went and what they did when I wasn't in the room. This was long before Harry Potter and the moving, seeing pictures portrayed there in, but when I first read the book it made perfect sense to me.

Two years ago I lost my best friend. She was a wonderful person, a mother of 5 children, wife of 26 years, and she died very suddenly. Jane was, to me, the perfect wife and mother. She made me want to be a better person, and her countenance was dazzling. I can't recall any time when she wasn't positive- even when times were rough. -- sigh-- there aren't words to adequately describe Jane and how special she really was...... She was in the hospital having a stint in her thigh removed- placed there to catch clots after vein surgery- and the doctor punctured her heart accidentally. This was the first time in medical history that this had happened.
((WHY??))

When it came time for her funeral, there was a viewing.
I couldn't go.
simply. couldn't. go.

You see, I have a picture of Jane, and she is smiling. Smiling at me, every day... In those first few months when I fully expected her to walk in the door of the church we attend, when I picked up the phone to call her, before remembering that I couldn't do that anymore, I looked at her photograph, and my heart was lighter, even though it was still broken. I still miss Jane terribly, I still cry... although the dreams are less frequent of her waving at me and saying 'hi' like she is still here. This is how I will always remember her.

There is one picture I have of her playing a ring-around-the-rosy kind of game with a group of children. Her husband gave me that picture, and I thought it was a recent one. I found out though that it was taken almost 15 years ago. She looked exactly the same. Smiling, happy, radiant. I will remember her that way forever because of a photograph.

The power of photos is readily evident to me, for it seems in my life there has been much loss. Perhaps this is why photography has been so tightly linked to high emotion for me. When I was fifteen my 21 year old brother committed suicide. No one would talk about it with me, and I wasn't even allowed to attend the funeral. I had to deal with it on my own. To come to terms with the act, without any of the details or any explanation. My father couldn't even speak his name for years, and I do mean years afterwards. It was too painful for him. But here was I, wanting more..... So I cherished his last photo. He was smiling at me. He wasn't sad, or depressed, or on drugs or anything. He was just Jeff, smiling at me like he did when he was alive.
This is how I will remember him forever- because of a photograph.

This is not to say that all photos make me sad. I frequently look at a photo taken when my daughter, then only 2 1/2 years old, got caught inside a tomato cage. Cruelly, I made my husband keep her there while I ran for the camera. A priceless picture that makes me laugh every time I see it, the last time was just a few days ago, with Codi sitting next to me.



It invariably brings the evil eye on from my daughter who can't understand why I tortured her like that just for a picture. She doesn't get it- but she will when she has children of her own.

A picture I have of my son playing his guitar- such a handsome boy. At age 4 he got his first one for Christmas. He thought he would be able to pick up the guitar and play like Raffi on his first try. Little did he know as he was so discouraged after that first attempt he would become a virtual prodigy as a teen. Makes me fit to burst with pride and love. A picture of him with his face all screwed up in that impossible way only a one year old can while preparing to let loose a primal scream... I smile.

Wow, are those my kids? They are so beautiful!! Unbelievable that such children could come from me. Me who is so not perfect, and is actually very much lucky to be alive still. What a miracle.

One of me, in Hawaii in 1988. Young, and was I ever that thin??? I always thought I was fat and ugly. Wow, that was me. The lies planted in my heart at such a young age were truly that, just lies. I was beautiful.

One of my husband, in his leather jacket from Turkey, looking over the top of his glasses at me with that look... -- heart flutter -- back away girls, he's all mine :))


The problem is that some of us don't want to have our pictures taken. I am one of them, but I learned a most important lesson. See, we don't have a lot of pictures of my brother Jeff, and I only have a couple of my friend Jane. There are so many others I have lost and there aren't nearly enough pictures of them either.
Life is short, we are mortal, and the others in our lives go on without us.
I wish I had more....
We get old and cranky, we don't want our pictures taken and hide from the camera, we think it is not that important for crying out loud.
But....
If I can't have more time with those I have loved, then I want more pictures.

So get out there and get in front of the camera. I don't care if you are fat, old, or have a mustache (um, that would be the female persuasion type I am referring to here) I need more pictures, and so do all your loved ones.
Life is short my friends, take lots of pictures, and share them with everyone you love.
Pictures are indeed magical. Perhaps a piece of us really does reside in certain pictures after they are taken. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that is true.
See you next time.
Slainte Mor~
Rachelle

Two days of Terror....

Well, it has certainly not been a boring summer.....

Here's the latest in my life. Saturday dawned like any other summer day, hot and clear. My son and I were going down to Bakersfield to see Harry Potter, and pick up the new book. Since I had already seen it with my daughter, she was going to stay home by herself.

Wyatt was in L.A. at the temple, and wasn't due back until about 4:30 pm. He was unreachable by phone. Codi's friend Olivia was here after spending the night, and we were going to take her home on the way to Bako.

It was 11:30 am, and we were about to leave. The house had been open to catch the morning coolness.... we never close all the windows in the summer, we have a deep fear of fire, and smelling smoke is always our first warning.

Until Saturday. I came out from the back of the house to get my purse, and smelled smoke. I went outside, and the entire canyon was billowing with smoke. I stood there in shock. Every time we have had a fire nearby, and there have been many over the years, I have smelled smoke long before it has gotten close. We start the fire chain here with our neighbors, and we have plenty of time to act. This time it was right below us before anyone in the canyon caught it. There was no wind....

The fire below our neighbor's place immediately below us, and the brave pilot.

Immediately I went into controlled panic mode. The first thing I thought of was watering around the house and the pens, like we always do..... but we have no water. Okay, a little more panic and less control here.....

Got the kids, told them to get the animal carriers and round up the animals. Told them to pack their emergency bags - quickly. Called my neighbor with the extra trailer she said we could use, she didn't answer. Called my friends in Frazier Park and asked them to locate a trailer for the animals. I was crying when I talked to Jackie, I was terrified. With only me and the kids home, it was all up to us to do everything, without strong dad- with my back...... Our trailer is big enough for five animals, and we can put four or five in the back of the truck in the camper- but only if the car is here to load up the kids, dogs, cats, and our emergency bags, and pictures.....

First and foremost, my family.

Having been through a few scares with fires, the kids are now pros at packing their emergency bags. Everyone knew this was different though, the fire was right here, not something seen in the distance. We got the female pacas up in the front of the 'safe pen' in preparation for the boys to take the lower half. The safe pen is the one in the middle, with no big oak trees nearby to burn.

Thank God our friends were able to get here in time. Right after they arrived, they closed the road to our canyon and didn't let anyone up. Jackie and her husband Brian, and their son Brady came with their big Yukon and a carrier trailer. No, it wouldn't hold my animals, it was a slat sided flatbed. I called the fire department while I was waiting for them, and the lady on the other end said, yes, they were evacuating Digier Canyon.... wait, no they weren't? Just a minute, she said..... no, they were not evacuating at this time, but to be ready, they were in fact fighting three fires in the area. If the Sheriff and CHP showed up, we would have to leave immediately.

So, I had to decide. Who would go with us?

The fire as it crept up the left side of the canyon and along the ridge, closer to our house.

It was a given, the four cats, the two dogs, but which alpacas? We have 22 right now. I had a two day old cria, and one pregnant female due this fall. The stress caused by transporting them was a serious concern. Taking a new baby to another ranch would expose her to all kinds of bacteria she would be weak against at her age. I started my ranch evacuation phone chain. But no one was home. There was no answer at any of the four ranches I called near me. In the mean time, the fire is creeping closer and closer.... and the wind was picking up. Blowing right up the canyon towards our home. Codi's friend was very scared.

The phone was ringing madly. I had my cell phone in one hand, and the walkabout in the other, talking on both at the same time. Calls from friends in the area who heard there was a fire, could we see it?? Boy, I had to laugh.... yup, I said. Then a call from a friend very close by, we could take the alpacas to her place and put them in the backyard if we had to. Relief.... not a perfect solution, but far better than having nowhere to take them.

Our neighbor above called us and offered her six horse trailer. She has wild mustangs, and said she would not be able to get them out, we had first dibs on the trailer if we wanted it.... my heart leapt and said yes! I could get everyone out then! But then, I had second thoughts, what if she really needed it?? I said I'd get back to her. She assured me she wouldn't need it, but I felt differently. Bless her heart.

Then the phone rang, it was my friend who lived up in Lockwood with alpacas. She said she had been sick and was sleeping when I called, of course I could bring the pacas to her place. Relief....

The smoke through the trees

It was decision time. I had to decide who I was going to take, and who would have to stay behind. At a time like this, you have two forces driving the decision making process. Your head, and your heart. My heart said I couldn't possibly leave my boys behind. My head said the girls were by far the most valuable and had to go first. If there was time, I would come back and get the boys. If there was time...

Brian was great, he said, "Rachelle, tell us what to do, and we'll do it." So, I did. We took all the cats in their carriers, and all the bags, guitars, and the computer modem out of my truck and out them in his and in their trailer, freeing up space for alpacas in my truck. I had to decide what to take out of the house. What do you take? I looked around my house with a feeling of complete exhaustion.... what did I want to take? It was only two hours later, but it felt like many, many hours had passed... The pictures on the walls came down and were loaded. The handful of loose pictures I had in my room were packed. Where were the rest of the pictures? The ones of my precious children when they were babies? They weren't in albums, that was something I had always said I'd do later, why didn't I???
The scaredy cat we couldn't find, she had to stay in the house. Tears.

Then we waited...... We watched the fire as it burned along the top of the ridge, then raced down the canyon wall towards our home. We watched the brave pilots maneuver throughout our narrow canyon. It was amazing. The boys went up by the water tank with shovels and caught the burning ashes, smothering them with dirt before they could spark a blaze. We could hear the crackling of the flames now.

Codi's friend was terrified. I shared with her that I had prayed, and in my heart I knew we would be okay, that after my prayer, a feeling of calm came over me, that I knew WE would be okay, safe.

Then the fire trucks arrived to protect the house. The fireman asked me what we planned to do. My heart sick, I asked him what he would do. He said if it were his home, he would leave, and leave now.
So, no more time. They started working around the house, planning their strategy for saving our home. We loaded up the girls, I kissed them and told them to be calm.

We moved all the boys into the safe pen, the firemen agreed it was the best place for them.
We moved my two llamas up to the pen connected to the house. We left the chickens. We left the scaredy cat. We left the water turtle in the house. We left 13 male alpacas, my nanny llama lady, my precious boys..... and our home. I knew we would be safe, but what about them?

Jackie asked me if there was anything else I wanted to take..... I remember looking around and saying, it's only stuff, right?

My daughter and I cried together, and..... we left.

The burn along the canyon wall to the left and below the boy's pens.

We drove out to Lockwood Valley to drop off the girls. After getting them all unloaded, I remember being unable to think. It was complete and utter stupor of thought. Brian asked me if we were going to come to their house. Several folks had graciously offered their places to us, and I had scatterbrainedly said yes to about three of them, while talking with 911 on the other phone, you know.

I just started crying, I said "I can't leave my new baby! What if something happens to her? Where will you put the cats? I think I'm going to take the cats and dogs and go home." I wasn't thinking very clearly, obviously. And I said so. From then on Brian took charge. He said, "You're coming to our house. We'll put the cats in the garage, the dogs in the yard, and you inside." And so we did.

The burn to the left of our house, as it ran up the draw and back over the ridge.

I spent about half an hour calming down our big fat cat Shadow (AKA- Fat Boy) who is about 12 years old, and never been away from home. He had ropey strands of saliva, had thrown up, and was breathing with his mouth open, totally stressed. He calmed down in my lap, we both did.

My neighbor had to use her trailer. I knew it.

Finally, Wyatt called. He was frantic. He got on the phone with our neighbors below, and called me back. He said, "I just talked with Bill and Shelly, the fire burnt half the house." !!?? What!! I screamed.

The burn as the fire got sneaky and came back over the ridge behind our house.

Wyatt said, "The fire burnt past the house!" Relief.

Long story, I know. The end is short. The house is fine. The boys are fine. We dodged a big bullet. When we returned we found that the fire had gone up the draw to the left of our house when it got to the "V". If it had gone up the right, we would have lost everything. Blessings.

We watch the skies for smoke, and sleep a little lighter. We don't leave the house alone.

My family is safe. The girls are home. My baby is fine, as is the pregnant female due in September. Here they are:

Lessons learned. Picture organization, now! Prayer works! Thank God for good friends!! We love our firemen!!

Thank God for you! I love you all!

Slainte~
Rachelle

to sleep...... perchance to...???

I am living life. It is not too exciting, nor too boring. I have a new husband and we have two children. There is the fun of discovering each other and ourselves, and everything seems to be fine, just fine.

Soon I find myself sinking. I ask my new husband, didn't we....? How many times have we ................? Didn't we already say/do that? I begin to do things that are out of character. I remember parties, wild parties. Dark events swim to the surface, did I REALLY do that? No one sees me, am I really here? Am, I crazy?

My children begin to look at me oddly, as if I am there, but not really there. I am heavy. Once, I am at the sink peeling something with a knife when I simply stop functioning properly. I begin to peel my finger instead, and my child beside me starts to scream. I watch the blood spiral down the drain with indifference. Could I hurt my child?? Getting heavier.

Hard to remember, I find myself in the corner a lot. Staring at the wall. My family drags me to their various functions muttering about how I'm not trying, (why doesn't she snap out of it? She's just faking it...?) and then, not caring... or, unable to see me any longer?

Heavier, heavier.... until the weight is unbearable and I bow to it. My body bent, I stand in the corner with my arms drooping down nearly to the ground. Eventually the effort required to hold my mouth closed is too much. I begin to drool. ((help me)) Doesn't anybody see??

Time passes, I wonder how to shed this burden, this unbearable weight that presses down upon my shoulders and causes me to lose my dignity, my humanity, my...... ((help me?))

Finally my husband SEES me. He discusses it with my children, as if it were only recently discovered, this MALADY of mine. Concerned. Desperate.
He makes a phone call, and I feel..... relief.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

This was the dream I had last night. So many interpretations. Depression, fear, the weight of the world, sadness? Perhaps.
Strangely enough, I didn't feel particularly depressed or sad, or anything this morning after the dream.
Just another one of Rachelle's weird dreams I thought... :))
Wow, tonight- to sleep.... perchance to.... forget that, just to sleep- please!!

My weird, weird, weird, life

I just discovered something about myself.... okay, that's a lie, I didn't really just discover it, I've known it all along, and now I'm going to share it with you.

I am weird. I have a weird life. Let me 'splain...

For example. I like to play video games, I hate to have my face covered, I freak out at the sight of metal silverware. I can write a story that will make you weep, laugh, and cause you to want to leave me everything you own in your will, but if I talk with you in person I am capable of blithering like an idiot for hours without making a shred of sense. I hate crowds and I'm claustrophobic. When I walk outside my home, wherever I may be, I am certain there is a hidden camera somewhere just waiting to document me falling on my face. I love the ocean, but am deathly afraid drowning in it. I am terrified of heights, even on a stepstool.

I am currently going through a hair color crisis. Right now at this very moment, my hair is sort of a cross between pewter and platinum. And this from a salon. Last week it was white blonde, the month before it was brown. My hubby says this color of the week makes me look older.... he says he didn't say old, just older.... yeah uh-huh.

My bedroom could be declared a national disaster, and I need about 3 closets for all my clothes- which are currently piled in various corners of my room, but I can't stand a dirty kitchen.

My dog sleeps with me in my bed, and my husband sleeps in the spare room. (and not because of the hair color comment)

My kids are great kids, and yet they still manage to drive me to my knees every night.

I have a passion for gardening and animals, and am toxically allergic to both.

There are currently songs from everyone from Sarah McLachlan to Final Fantasy 10 on my Ipod.

My kid's friends all think I'm cool because I play the Ps 2 and am good at all their favorite games. My kids themselves think I am monumentally weird. Because I love Devo, and sing at the top of my lungs in the car. Because their friends think I'm cool. Because I forbid them to dye their hair. Because I embarrass them on a regular basis and on all kinds of different levels. And for oh so many other reasons.

I've been married for 12 years this year and I still feel like I live with my best friend. I love going to church, and wish I could have had more children- like about 4 more.

I like brussel sprouts and raw fish. I hate heavy metal and rap. I love my family, and enjoy nothing more than staying home with them. I am politically incorrect all the time, and I don't care. I will tell you how I feel about everything, whether you really wanted to hear the answer to "How are you?" or not.

I hate phony people, like country music, and think the president of our country, regardless of his political affiliation, deserves our respect.

I believe in being ethical in my business dealings. Whoa......

Yup, I'm weird.

Wednesday I go in for surgery, so if something happens and I never see you all again, I just wanted to leave you to ponder the following:

If I am this weird with a uterus, will the hysterectomy make me more, or less weird?

Discuss this amongst yourselves and report.

Slainte~
Rachelle

Ps.... hubby works graveyard, that's why he sleeps in the spare room- for peace and quiet!

What dreams may come

In May it will be two years since my best friend died.
It used to be I would dream of her waving at me in passing, like she was letting me know she was still around, not to worry.
It has been quite a while since my last dream of her. I don't cry every day anymore, or when someone mentions her name, or when I think of her family left behind.

Sometimes grief will sneak up behind me and grab hold of my throat, choking me when I least expect it. Like a couple of weeks ago at church when a speaker started talking about how good she was. Then I break down and start to sob. It all comes back to me in a rush, oh yea, she is gone, she won't be coming back...... I do still miss her.

I haven't been sleeping well these last few nights. Having some health struggles of my own right now, I am on some new medication and it is interfering with my sleep patterns. As I have mentioned before, I dream in living color. Big, bold, save the world dreams where I have to be the hero or watch the entire human race go down in flames. Lately my dreams have been particularly heart wrenching.

I dreamed that it was, in fact, the end of the world. Everyone was running towards these bunkers and there was chaos and screaming. Fleeing from some nameless terror vaguely familiar and seen just around the edges, perhaps from the corner of your eye, we ran pell mell.

Upon arriving in one of the bunkers, I looked around me and realized how few we were in numbers. Bunched into furtive groups, some hiding in fear from the faceless enemy, some hiding their evil human nature away, biding their time to feed upon the few valiant left in the world. Some exhibited a newfound suspiciousness of one another, "Are you one of them?" their eyes asked. Or one who seeks to take advantage of these treacherous times? Sheltering their children from other's eyes.

I came to understand my family wasn't with me. I ran from bunker to bunker searching frantically. One such bunker housed Satan worshipping minions. Formerly afraid to boast of their religion, relegated to hiding and secrecy in the past, they openly revelled in this new world and blatantly flaunted their evil natures- posting large banners proclaiming their beliefs and their intent to take over the souls of those left behind to rebuild a decent, upstanding society.

I stated my intent to these robed and hooded faceless entities, to remain valiant, and bravely, with great fear in my heart, stood up to proclaim that good would indeed conquer evil in the end. I remember the fear....

Searching for hours, I found no trace of my family. I peered into one bunker and recognized a family I knew. They too were short members of their family. They stressed to me that they had not seen my daughter or son, and I left bereft.

In the next bunker I came to, I saw my daughter from behind. It was her! Her hair, the shape of her silhouette, backlit by sun streaming in the window. My heart rejoiced, at last! I ran to embrace her and the young woman turned to me.... it wasn't her. I crumpled to the floor in despair. I sobbed, and screamed, tearing at my hair for I simply knew I would never find her, or any of my other family members. I was alone.

I awoke with my eyes puffy, crying my heart out. I went back to sleep only to relive the last few moments of my dream, over and over again. Waking each time to find myself weeping and feeling that terrible ache in my heart that convinced me it was not a dream. Unable to fully awaken, unable to try and search further, to alter the ending of the dream, destined to return again and again to the same place and relive that awful realization over and over again- I despaired of ever feeling whole again.

Finally I was able to break the cycle and awaken fully. Rushing to my daughter's room I sat at her bedside forever stroking her face and reassuring myself that it was, in fact, only a dream. On to my son's room for the same routine.

As I write this, I weep again, so powerful was this dream.

What was it? A horrible premonition of some event to come? An underlying fear of loss that is buried in my subconscious and manifesting itself in my dreams? That's what the experts say happens anyway.... Everyone knows that a mother's most powerful fear is the loss of a child. But what purpose does a dream like this serve?

--sigh-- I wish I could just sleep, only sleep.

Last night I dreamed of my friend Jane. She was standing on the edge of, well..... something. I ran to her and hugged her tightly. Telling her how much I loved her, and how much I admired her. Knowing she was going to die, I expressed my desire to be able to do something, anything to help her. I couldn't tell her that she was going to die, so I was trying to find some way to just do something to help.

I don't know if I meant to prevent her death, or to help her prepare for it, or even if it was a simple wish to help her family afterwards deal with such a terrible loss. All I know is that she hugged me back, and that I knew I had let her know how much I loved her..... before she was gone. Maybe this dream was her way of telling me that she knew it all along.

Regrets, yup, I've got them. I learned a powerful lesson with the loss of my friend. Tell people you love them, admire them, treasure them every day, while you can.

For days after my dream about losing my family, I had to stop and hug my daughter. The feelings of hopelessness I felt coming back fully every time I saw her face.

I have to wonder, what purpose do dreams of the apocalyptic kind serve? To remind me to strengthen my faith for trials ahead? To serve as a reminder of the fragility of mortal life? I don't know.

Maybe it's just hormones.... ha-ha.

Till next time my friends.

Slainte~

Rachelle

Wow.....

Almond trees in Dixon
Green hills surround us
Popcorn popping on our apricot tree
Zafira, in grey- out of our stud Mithrandir and Avalon -black suri in front out of

our stud Sandpiper
Zafira and her momma

Wow... it has been so long since I wrote!

Well, here is a 'sum up' to let you know what's been happening:


A huge branch punched a hole in our roof.


It rained in our house.


We went to Sacramento to deliver an alpaca we sold. :( and :)


We picked up my Lady Galadriel from where she was near Sacramento for breeding (hurray!)


While we were in Sacramento, (of course....) a ranch we are mentoring had their first cria- a dystocia that resulted in the vet having to manually remove the cria (only weighing 6 lbs) and the mother and severely compromised cria having to be rushed up to UC Davis (where we, of course WERE!!!)


Our neighbor's house up the canyon burned to the ground- nothing recoverable- but no life lost.


The weather made our road impassible for 3 days.


Our neighbor down the road from us went off the side of said road and was trapped upside down in his car for almost 4 hours (thankfully he is alright now!)


Our beautiful hills turned vibrant green.


My whole family has been down with strep throat for three weeks, I managed to come through unscathed (so I thought, keep reading)


I found out I need a hysterectomy (April 11th)


I have been putting together all the last minute details on our National Super Stud Raffle.


My son had his second drumline competition (we were in Sac for the first one)


Then just when I thought everything would settle down for a while- I got strep throat.


*sigh*


Life just got busy!


So, let's recap:

Neighbors- both fine- one sore, one rebuilding.

Hole in the roof- still there.

Weather- hot! Cooling trend coming, and my peach tree is starting to bloom!

Alpacas- first one due in June, and my Lady G is home! We miss Fanny.

Little cria (girl) now weighs 12 lb and she and mom are both doing great.

Kids- all well but Codi going to see her specialist again tomorrow due to a reoccurrence of her stomach problems.

Me- will be one or three organs lighter, and in much less pain after my surgery! Oh yea, and antibiotics are great, aren't they?

Hills- still gorgeous- see pictures.

Stud Raffle- coming together, and I'm off to Nationals in May to choose a winner!


So, enjoy the pictures, and I promise to keep writing more often.

Thanks to Mousie for your concern- yup- sometimes I isolate and don't reach out, and sometimes life just gets in the way!

Slainte~
Rachelle