ONE
Started June 22. Finished July 4, 1993

"Cheshire Puss", she (Alice) began... "would you please tell me which way I ought to go from here?" "That depends on where you want to get to," said the cat.

No major revelations on where I want to get to, but I thought I'd share some of where I've been. Place-wise, Darien, Ct., East Arlington, Vt., Saratoga Springs, NY, Cooperstown, NY, Westfield, NY, Elkhart, Indiana and Chicago. Head-wise, I've no clue!

But I've impressed the hell out of myself right now because I've managed to hook-up this computer, sort of figure out Word Perfect, and I am typing. Now I just need to be creative so you all can get the first installment of "Gone With Claudia". I still haven't come up with the perfect "tag" for this adventure. So any and all ideas are very welcome! My first set of business cards (some may be included in here) say ...On The Run. I signed my magazine queries with Movin' and Groovin'. On The Road is taken. Words like journey, quest, adventure need something with it...so maybe by the next letter I'll have thought of something!

Anyway enough dribbling and drabbling. Here comes the first chapter! Drum roll please! As most of you are aware, I've chucked it all. The job, the entanglements, the possessions. Yep, the convertible, the antique brass bed, 47 pairs of high heels, the life size carousel horse, the boyfriend, many earrings ( I still have too many)... and I'm heading west.

When asked, I say I'm headed to New Mexico or Arizona. But what I'm really looking for is a place with acres of animals, unspoiled surroundings, driving range in the back, cultural diversity and warm weather. I've adopted the philosophy "find it and the job will come".

My northern route journey for the next month includes many stops with friends. Wonderful fabulous generous friends who are letting me pretend I've started my journey while staying in the comfort of their hearts and homes! So far, I'm 2 for 2. I've been to two friend's houses and managed to get them to say, "Don't leave! Come live with us!"



HOW I'M GETTING WHEREVER IT IS I'M GOING
In my 24 years of car ownership I've been the proud owner of adorable, sporty VWs and Toyota's. Most of them convertibles. I have traded in that image now to be the owner of a 1/2 ton, two tone, bronze and beige Chevy Silverado pickup.

This rig is bigger than big. It is a major thump beat of America. It has a cap on the 8 ft bed, also two tone. The cap rises in the back to give it a streamlined look - who's kidding who -streamline a 1/2 ton truck? I'm on the NJ Turnpike approaching the toll booth.It says cars only. Do I not qualify to go into those toll booths anymore? And I go into a mall parking lot and my antenna bends over backwards. I jump out to screw it off and realize that I have about 2 inches left between my streamlined cap and the ceiling. Clearance signs! I have to read clearance signs.

And the rig doesn't end there. I am also towing a 16 foot trailer camper. And all this is happening to a person who never even liked to hike with a pack on her back. Now I'm one of those road hogging turtles. I bought this particular unit because the owner raises birds in her home, the trailer was made in Canada and it has a light grey and dusty rose interior, much nicer than all the american made brown interiors.

This camper has all I need to set up shop whenever I get to where ever I'm going. All ideas for places to go and people to see are welcome! I have a toilet and shower, a refrigerator, 3 burners, a full length mirror, sleeping room for 6 (actually, now only 4 cause I turned one bed into storage for all my clothes). I'm stocked with rice krispies, marshmellows, Uncle Dave's bloody Mary mix, beer and caramel nips. I have one suit, too many shirts, 15 pairs of underwear, 10 pairs of shoes, 38 pairs of earrings, a horse on a stick that neighs, 3 stuffed animals and an Orvis dog bed in Southwestern motif. Men, up to 6' 4", will fit comfortably inside the camper.


MY TRAVELING COMPANIONS
My faithful greyhound, Slim, has his traveling quarters in the back of the pick-up. He has a traveling bowl of water, more dog biscuits than some dogs get in a lifetime, his LL Bean dog bed and great views of the passing surroundings. He's run off about 3 times so far, but I manage to catch him when he stops to pee.

My sister Susan's cockatiel, Hosehead, more affectionately called the "Hoser", is riding shotgun with me. His cage rests on a down pillow and he is learning to say "on the road, Hoser"! Everywhere I stop he regales people with his singing abilities and they all want to adopt him. I may have to sell him to pay for my trip soon though. (see section on First Day)


GETTING IT ALL DONE (and said)
It was hard and not so hard to get rid of things in my life. I spent the first month or so, just moving things around the apartment, pretending I was getting rid of things. I frequented 4 consignment/thrift stores weekly with bags and hangers of clothes. My furniture went quickly thru advertised sales and to relatives. The carousel horse was bought for a granddaughter.

As long as things were still hidden in closets, cabinets etc. I thought I was getting somewhere. It wasn't until I opened those doors and brought items into the open that I started to panic. Think about it, those drawers where you just stuff things into and haven't looked through in years. I had so much baggage to give away, throw away, store away - just plain do away with. Getting rid of the physical junk, though, is a lot easier than getting rid of all the mental stuffing that jams the compartments in my head. It'll be a while before those cobwebs unravel. I'm working on them strand by strand.


STAYING IN TOUCH
I fancy myself a hermit, but my phone bills and address book attests to me being a very social person. I love my friends. I LOVE my friends. I love MY friends. I love my FRIENDS. And there's no way I want to be out of touch. So I now have an 800# where you can have no excuse to be out of touch! The enclosed business card (compliments of Wendy and Wilkey and their print shop in Greenwich) has the number. - but here it is again just in case. 1-800-SKY-TALK. (1-800-759-8255). Then enter my pin # 8018020 and hit the # sign. You'll then hear a message from me about where I am, and can leave me a message too. I know, I know, this is too much. so USE IT! Abuse It!


FIRST DAY
And I thought I was having an adventure up to now. Here goes a very fast synopsis of my first day on the road. It's a good thing I only chose to believe in the omens I want to, or I would have turned right around and high-tailed it home.

A sharp, dank, oily smell assaulted my and Hoser's nostrils one and a half hours into the trip on I-87 headed to Albany. I look in the side mirror and see white smoke billowing from below the truck. I look at the gauges. They're Ok. I look straight ahead. More white smoke from the hood. I pull over, roll up the windows before the bird and I expire. I pull out the Chevy handbook, read about overheating and get out of the truck. I get the hood open and stand there staring at the engine. I've seen guys do that, I figure I'll have a mechanical revelation or something. I get out the emergency kit that Scott provided me and try to light a flare. Five minutes later, the flare is lit and I'm setting up the portable CB my dad gave me. I press the talk button and say, "Breaker 1 9, damsel in distress can you help?" Within 3 minutes a trucker pulls over and tells me I have transmission problems, and that there is a gas station about 5 miles down the road. So I get to a gas station, they send me to a transmission station, then I spend 3 hours while Joe, who's owned the shop for 20 years tells me what's wrong, installs an extra cooler and explains all about how my transmission works. So I get in and continue to Vt - and run into a major gale and rain storm. I drive by Margot and Tom's house during this torrential downpour and Margot's doing the worry stand-by-the-door routine. We wave at each other. I pull into a parking lot and wait for the rain to end. Margot gets into her car and visits me at the parking lot. Then I can't get the truck/trailer into their driveway and a horse trailer driver named Piggy, stops by and does it for me. And transmission fluid gets dumped all over the road.

The next day the truck goes into a local Vt shop owned by Rob, his wife Stick and their 4 Saymoeds. Two days later, with savior Rob working into the night, it is fixed. It appears the trans was never attached to the train, the fluids for the trans and engine were filthy and had never been changed, the new cooler was hooked up incorrectly. Blah, Blah, Blah as Brooke (Margot and Tom's kid) would say.

"So it goes, on and on." And Vermont memories of applying tattoos, stopping to watch roadside while an adolescent moose nonchalantly chows down on grass, catching a glimpse of brother and sister (in catcher's mitt and pads) playing ball in their front yard, laughing while a black afghan puppy frolics in a pond and being entranced by the luminescence of a bright crescent moon in a deep blue sky, remain.

STORY
Two weeks ago, I was walking Slim in the field near my house. A horse show was going on, so I had him on leash. A policeman, driving around the field stopped to flirt with me. We gab about Slim, he tells me about his shepard and asks where I'm from. I hesitated slightly, but then told him I was from Norwalk but was moving West in a few days. It was as if I'd said the magic words. He started drilling me about why I was doing what I was doing, how I was doing it, where was the money coming from, what was I doing with my home, my possessions. He questioned me incessantly, and I was trying to figure out how to end this conversation, when he stated for the fifth time, "I've always wanted to do what you're doing." I'd been nice long enough, so I just blurted as I walked away, "Well, you can do it! Just make up your mind! Jeez, you could even come with me!"

Never giving it another thought, I went to the field a few days later. One of the regulars comes up to me and says, "there's this guy been asking for you everyday." I had no clue who she was talking about. And then striding over the hill comes the policeman and his shepard. Hovering over me, he blurts out, "I've been looking for you all week. I'm so glad I found you. I have 30 days coming to me, I'd like to go with you."

I was staggered by the longing in his words. And at a loss on how to respond, I was embarrassed he'd taken our conversation so literally. "So you've been thinking a lot about our conversation", was my response finally. For 15 minutes, he talked about his 29 years as a policeman, the $20,000 dining room table he could sell, the land in Florida he owned, the tedium of his life. He ended shyly with, "so I thought maybe you'd want some company and it would be a good way for for me to start."

I left two days later for my journey...alone.

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LIFE YOU SAVE - CHAPTER TWO Started 6/23. Ended 7/15/1993.

I was going through my black day planner, one remnant of Prodigy that I'd kept, and I'd written something, I'd read somewhere, that I'd forgotten I'd put in there -
Symptoms of Inner Peace
1. Think & act spontaneously rather than from past fears
2. Ability to enjoy each moment
3. Loss of interest in judging self
4. Loss of interest in judging others
5. Loss of interest in conflict
6. Loss of interest in interpreting the actions of others
7. Loss of ability to worry
8. Frequent episodes of appreciation
9. Contented feelings of connectedness with others and nature
10.Smiling through the eyes of the heart
11.Susceptibility to love from others and to others
12.Let things happen rather than make them happen

I am constantly in awe of how your past ends up having a connection with your present or your future. I was in the Black Hills 13 years ago, and I had felt the pull of the area then. I'm here now, and I don't want to leave. I'd found the above passage over a year ago, and here I am trying to incorporate those statements into my soul. Hoser and I had a moment together, captured on tape, when we wailed, screeched and howled to Meatloaf's Paradise By the Dashboard Lights. We were Sonny and Cher, Captain and Tennile, Ben and Jerry. Charna, a best girlfriend from Improv Olympics in Chicago, teaches in her Improv classes that the best acting happens when you listen, go with the flow and make connections. Her book, "Truth in Comedy" opens with:

If you want to know where we went wrong, we needn't look too far.
For where we'll be and where we've been, is always where we are.

And everything that comes your way is something you once gave.
Somebody feels the water, every time you make a wave...
Thom Bishop

CAMPING
This entry needs a preface. In 1980, when I traveled the country for two months I had a tent. I only used the tent for 1 week. Instead I slept outside on a pad, in my bag, on the ground. In Mesa Verde, I awoke one night to a buck grazing not 3 feet from my head. In Durango, I fell asleep watching a meteor shower for hours with two little girls. When I got home I slept on my porch for two weeks because I couldn't get used to a bed.

And now, I'm in a RV KOA campground. I feel like I've been abducted by aliens and brought to their home base. There is no aesthetic value to an RV. NONE. The are big and huge and unwieldy. And it appears that they procreate like rabbits. They are all over the place! My little trailer however is very cute. I have water and electric hooked up, but I have no intention of using either. I'll probably be asleep before it's dark, and these campgrounds all have showers. It was a pull through site, so I didn't even have to maneuver to park. I wanted a no fuss dinner, so I bought English muffins, sauce and cheese and made little pizzas in the toaster oven. I had 4 of them. I was hungry. So was Hoser. But he didn't like the pieces with the sauce on them.

The next night I stayed in a motel and watched Drop Dead Fred. A silly movie about a not so imaginary friend trying to put the child back into an adult's life. Connections, connections.

PET UPDATE
I'm worried about the Hoser. He just did a major sneeze. Also, I have yet to see him drink water. I've been rearranging the water in his cage, thinking he just doesn't get it - but I don't think he gets it no matter where I put it. He also does some strange stuff like going into a corner of the cage and just staying there. He also thinks he's a rooster. I get a very early wake-up call every morning. Even though I securely put a towel over his entire cage. That's another reason I'm going to bed early tonight.

Slim had to get more stitches in his toe, as the others came out. But these seem to be holding and he doesn't seem to be trying to take these out himself. He's trying hard to adjust and loves the trailer and the truck. I could watch him jump in the truck all day long, as he leaps effortlessly from ground to truck bed. A complete contrast to my grunting and groaning as I pull myself up in it. The one problem he's giving me is that he refuses to let me go anywhere without him. This habit becomes extremely annoying when I go to the bathroom and leave him in the trailer. He howls until I return. Hoser also chimes in with his screeches. I might as well go outside my trailer for all the privacy I'm getting.

I have a major photo opportunity and no camera. (That broke the first day on the trip too) I'm sitting at the table in the trailer, typing. Hoser is next to me in the cage. Slim (Mr. Photogenic) is on the bed, at the opposite end of the trailer. His Orvis bean bag bed is on our sofa bed, it's all fluffed up, and his front half is strewn across it, while his lanky torso is on the real bed. Dog on holiday. He could compete with Fay Ray.

THE JOURNEY
I spent a week in Chicago with Charna and Gracie. Slim gained back the 5 pounds he'd lost. I invested more mega transmission dollars into the truck. And we saw Jurassic Park, Last Action Hero, What's Love Got To Do With It, The Dead Zone, Mediterranio, Escape to New York, and are still arguing about whether it was acid or phiranas in the vat in the cellar in House On A Haunted Hill. Charna just called and said she rented the movie and it was acid. any phirana believers out there?. We didn't just watch movies, we also got pedicures and Charna got her ears pierced. I saw Chris Isaak in an interview, and feel in love even more. When will he realize I can make him happy? And I was wondrously entertained by Charna's troupe of Improv men - all younger than me. And you know how much I like younger men...

Improv Knight
I wore a blue denim dress, back-buttoned, scooped neck, and above the knee. Scuffed, faded, cowboy boots on my feet and a parrot tattoo on my left breast. I had just turned 40, sold my VW Karmann Ghia convertible, 47 pairs of high heels and water view home and was headed west in a Chevy Silverado pick-up, hauling a camper trailer. The truck, bought used, but promised to be mechanically sound, had just broken down for the third time in three weeks.

I had my first beer at 6 pm and with $10 in my boot headed to the show. The show, Improv Olympic, was developed, Emceed and produced by my Chicago pal, Charna. A fast-talking, fast-thinking, dark haired whirl of business and comedy, Charna always had accolades fawning over her, and men buying her drinks. I hoped to snag a few of those drinks, and I was ready to laugh and party while watching two troupes of gorgeous mid-twenty year olds, practice the art of improvisation. Flinging minds and bodies from one end of the stage to the other as they weaved audience suggestions into works of art.

I was well into my third beer, with one of Charna's main Improv guys, Ali. A veteran of improve stage, his dark good looks and Ivy League education made him a crowd favorite. Designating himself my personal Master of Ceremonies and he insisted we carry on our own Improv routines. An unsuspecting guy would walk by our stools, and Ali would grab his collar and haul him over for my inspection. White socks with anything but sneakers were rapid thumbs down. Gold necklaces earned any guy a boot kick back into the masses. I was corralled by laughing vibrant sweet flesh. Shots were ordered. The guys' drinks were Rumple-something, I, in the memory of Thelma and Louise, downed Wild Turkey.

The show over, we piled downstairs to the bar where Ali and I continued our round-up. I taught him the hand-slap game. One person has their hands palms up, while the other person's hands cover theirs. The person with palms up tries to slap the other person's hands before they can move them. Charna, unbeknownst to me, watched all this and wondered aloud with the bartender whether to leave Ali and me and go home. She ventured over to check on my condition, weaving her way through throngs of barring 20-something year olds dressed in khaki shorts, white T's and hiking boots. Roped to her were two of those boys.

I think we were introduced, but my memory is only of leaning on his shoulder, and clutching his hand, while he crooned into my ear for an eternity. He was Tim. 24. Aspiring actor. Former choir boy. Wild blonde hair. Stubble. A smattering of curly chest hair.

My next memory was THE KISS. Long, languous and luscious. How long? I have no memory of that. How languous? I could have spent days. How luscious? Sweeter than any summer fruit just pulled from the tree, and bit into with liquid flowing down your chin. When I opened my eyes, I realize that we are outside the bar. Against the wall of the theatre, right near the front door. I don't remember leaving the bar, but I do remember thinking, "we can't do this here", and I grabbed his hand and ran with him down the streets of Chicago. An alley loomed ahead of us and we dove for it. Running deeper and deeper, we merged with the cement of the alley and emerged three hours later, not sure of each other's names, where we were or what had happened. I'm still not sure. The clearest memory is the loss of all memory of who I was and where I was. The reality is one missing half moon blue stone earring, and cement burns on my elbows, back and knees. The reality is the tingles of warmth that pulse through my body whenever I think of him. The reality is I'll never see him again.

back to reality....

So the truck has again determined the plans, and I'm on my way to Jackson, Wyoming instead of a party in Stevensville, Mt. with many outdoorsy types. And you know how I like outdoorsy types...

I stopped at a tourism booth off of I-90 in South Dakota. I was hoping to find a campground that had no miniature golf, pools and screaming kids. Paging through a 50 page Black Hills book of places and things to do, a 1/4 page ad "Wild Horse Sanctuary" caught my eye. I called, they said come on down and 185 miles later, 10 of them on a dirt road, I was there.

"There" is a place I could stay forever. 11,000 acres of river, valley, canyons, sage, juniper, wildflowers and 300 wild horses. 300 wild horses. Free to roam. It was incredible. The man who put this all together, Dayton O. Hyde, took me for a private tour. He showed me the horses, the Indian artifacts, the sprawling, open land. He's raised $750,000, and needs $250,000 more to ensure it all stays intact, so he's just opened it to the public. He talked about me working there and helping his dream become a reality. I barely slept that night. How could I have found what felt like the right place so soon. I've only been on the road for 3 weeks, I'm not a winter person, but oh, those Black Hills are something special. And those horses... I woke the next morning in a trailer surrounded by longhorn cattle. Spotted/mottled moms and calves, playing and bellowing and drinking and eating, right outside my door. I rode out with 2 young blonde woman and we ran the sage, and watched the horses. I asked them about Dayton and they hesitantly told me things I didn't want to hear, but had known somewhere inside. Mr. Dayton O. Hyde, author, conservationist, 70ish, savior of wild horses, also collected women. I wanted a business relationship, he would want more. I left after my ride that day, with barely a good-bye to Dayton. Depressed for the first time on the trip, because my romantic notions had been outweighing my practical ones, I'd already been imagining myself on that ranch, saving those horses and making a difference.

MUNDANE THINGS
I just spent the better part of a beautiful Jackson Hole day trying to figure out bills. Everything is a mess. My deductible was more than I ever thought, checks are bouncing, a tenant who's been there less than 6 months is moving, truck broke down 3 times in 3 weeks, Slim has been to the vet twice, my camera broke the first day out, I've seen 3 trailer/campers overturned on the side of the road, I have been bit by 3 million mosquitoes and I'm having a great time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FYI: I can't continue to send 88 letters separately. Envelopes, printing and stamps get a bit steep. So I've sent this letter to about a 1/3 of the group. Enclosed with each letter are addresses to forward the letter to once you've read it. Just resend to next address etc. etc. Many hugs and kisses to all who have made me feel so warm and fuzzy inside. I am one lucky gal.

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THE LIFE YOU SAVE - THREE Started & Ended 8/11/93

I'm in my sister's 2BR, 1st floor apartment in Lodi, CA. I'm eating guacamole, salsa, chips and drinking a beer. I've vacumned, done laundry and read 2 newspapers. It's noon. I've just rented Glengarry Glen Ross and I'm bored. Board stiff. Bored to death. Borrrrrrrrred silly.

WHERE I'VE BEEN
Since I last wrote, I've traveled from Jackson, Wyoming to Big Piney, Wyoming. I spent a blissful week in Big Piney, in a log cabin hiking daily with Slim and Freedog and Angie and Bags and Dani, and their human counterparts, Bill and Tine. I read and wrote and ate and watched the Atlanta Braves every night. I even, if I do say so myself, saved Freedog from death (a wee bit of exaggeration) when he slipped between two boulders and couldn't get out.

an aside - Freedog
FREEDOG

It was another endless, blue and bright southwestern Wyoming summer day.

Our hike today was in the Big Piney ridges. Me and my dark brindle greyhound, Slim, and Bill with Freedog, his Bouvier and Irish Setter mix, who I called Mookie, because of his shaggy locks and large overshaped body.

We were hiking a dirt road, used by 4-wheel vehicles, but the dogs made their own path cutting back and forth through fragrant sagebrush and prickly cacti. Slim was the first dog to disappear. Freedog had flushed a buck antelope, and Slim never having seen one, took chase over 2 ridges. For 15 minutes, I played it cool, and continued to hike with Bill, assuming Slim would find his way back. But then visions of a greyhound still chasing an antelope entered my brain, and I set off over the ridges I'd seen him gallop over. I found him, on the second ridge, head down and panting, but none the worse for the chase.

We rejoined Bill and Freedog on the top of another ridge, where we had panoramic views of the entire countryside. Valleys of green grass, dotted with trees and sagebrush; mountains capped with snow as the backdrop, and ridges of red stone and sandstone. Freedog took that opportunity to head down a gravelly, steep ridge in search of gophers. Bill was unconcerned, feeling that Freedog would reappear. A half an hour passed and he hadn't returned. Bill felt we would see him on the way back, or he'd meet us at the truck, so we retraced our steps. We reached the truck, but Freedog was not there. Anger mixed with anxiety, as we climbed into Bill's 4-Runner and four-wheeled the area. I was hanging out the window yelling Free's name, and Bill was leaning on the horn. But we got no response. We decided I'd stay on thet ridge, and Bill would drive towards home, checking the road and getting help from his wife, Tine.

Bill returned without having sighted Freedog. I was hoarse from yelling his name for the past half hour. We were both now feeling frantic. It'd been well over an hour since we'd last seen Freedog, and the terrain where we'd last seen him was treacherous. Additionally, Freedog had limited mobility as he had hip dysplasia in his hind legs.

We decided to go back to the top of the ridge where we'd last seen Free, while Tine went to neighboring ranches. Bill took one direction with the ridges. I took the other. These ridges were composed of loose rock, gravel and sediment. I had to plant my feet carefully and completely as I traversed my way down the ridge. The sediment was so loose, that a rock slide could happen easily. The big rocks that protruded halfway down the ridge were not made of rock, but of sand. At one point I'd been trusting a piece of the rock to hold my weight and it just dissentigrated under my hiking boot.

I made my way carefully to the outcropping of the first group of rocks, still yelling his name, and tentatively looking for a big black dog carcass below, and fervently hoping not to see one. The rock, gravel and sand continued to move whenever I did, so I didn't see how Free would have survived a rockslide. Thankfully, he was not there, so I turned to look back at what was behind me. And there he was - a big furry black head staring at me from between two rocks. But right below him was a sheer drop of over forty feet. He hadn't made a sound the whole time I'd been yelling his name. I yelled at him to stay, and it didn't look like from below he had any choice, as I looked for a way to get up to him.

My mind clicked into emergency mode. Options filtered through my brain, and I as quickly eliminated or pursued them. I didn't have time to waste, if he moved forward he was dead.

I surveyed the rocks, but all the rocks around him were sheer. No foot or toeholds. I had to move 30 feet away from him to find a spot that would let me scramble back up, the whole time, yelling at Free to stay, and praying under my breath he'd listen - which wasn't one of his better traits. I came across the rocks to look down at him and view his predicament. His two hind legs were wedged tightly between two sheer boulders. In front of him was that drop of over forty feet. Behind him was a sage brush growing out of the boulders. It looked like he'd lost his footing on these rocks and slipped into the crack.

I gingerly made my way so I was right above him. I couldn't initially tell if his back legs were broken, as they were wedged in such a tight space, I couldn't see them. In order to get close to him, I had to straddle the two rocks above him, aware from my earlier lesson that these rocks weren't as solid as they looked. And so now, both Free and I were looking at the precipice and his dilemma was mine.

I had a 6 ft nylon leash wrapped around my waist that I pulled off and thought that if I fashioned a noose with it and slipped it over him at least I've have some leverage should he start to fall. I got it over his neck, but couldn't get close enough to get it over his legs and he certainly wasn't going to lift his front legs willingly, as they were the only thing stopping him from falling down the precipice. I knew that my position was too precarious to pull him up with the leash just around his neck. He weighed over 80 lbs, I still wasn't sure about the damage to his back legs, and the sheer rock I was on didn't provide much leverage. I yelled and yelled for Bill, and he finally heard me. He stood about 100 feet above us on the top of the ridge and I screamed that we needed more rope. He left to go back to the truck.

At this point, I was getting worried that Free might try to do something to get out, and I wouldn't have him securely enough to save him. So I took a deep breath, told myself I can do anything I put my mind to, and inched down closer to him. I leaned my body over the precipice to pull up his front paws and get the leash noose around his body. One false move by either of us and we would be history. But we did it. I had a hold on him.

I readjusted my position again and pulled back the sage as much as I could and saw that while his back feet were stuck in a two inch space, they didn't seem to be broken.

Though Bill had gone to get more rope, I didn't think he'd be able to provide much more assistance as there wasn't any room to manuever even after he came down. Additionally, Free had been trapped there for over an hour, and I just thought that he and I had to do this. Now.

I thought that if I could get him turned back towards me and away from facing the cliff, and if he could use his legs on the sage to help me while I pulled, then maybe we could do it. With a deep breath, I said a prayer to the goddess that saves dogs and heaved. Freedog scrambled on the rock and sage, I kept full contact around his body as I scrambled on the rock and sand, and we did it. He was free.

And in typical Freedog fashion, was off an running with my leash wrapped around his body. This adventure completed and forgotten, he was already back to what he'd been doing before - hunting for gophers. I was wondering on my butt, breathing hard, and wondering if I could sell this story to Walt Disney.

back to the story....
I didn't want to leave, but I thought I needed to get to my sister for her 32nd birthday on August 1. So I traveled across Nevada and half of California. I left the trailer in Big Piney. I was just tired of hauling it, and I'll be heading north from here into mountains and it's just no fun to drive with it. Of course the truck is still up to its breakdown tricks. New front brakes needed in Wyoming, because someone didn't put a bolt back in the drums. Oil change needed, a complete flushing, again, of the engine coolant. The list continues. This certainly is not making me a fan of American cars/trucks.

WHERE I'M HEADED
Mid-August I'm headed to Northern California to check it out. Eureka's on the coast and Redding's in the interior. In Oregon, I'm going to look at towns called Sisters and Bend. In Idaho, maybe Coeur D'Alene, though someone told me it's where the White Supremist nation started, and a manager that works for my sister got a knife pulled on him by a 17 year old member of the Aryan nation, so... that's just a maybe. And I'll finally get to Montana to see friends in Florence and Whitefish. Then it's back to Wyoming to pick up the trailer and head to Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona.


MY DAYS
I'm heavy into A&W rootbeer floats these past two weeks. I started with small floats, but I've now graduated to large. I'm happy they don't have a jumbo size.

I've wanted to golf. I shot a 101 the other day. My normal score is around 110-120, so I was pretty excited. Next time out though, it was a 122. Boo hoo. But I'm not giving up. Unfortunately, Susan has to work too much and too late, and I'm too chicken to play golf by myself.

Today I was driving to the post office in Lodi, and was waiting to make a left turn. The light changed from red to blinking yellow, and coming straight at me was a train. A big, black, moving choo choo. It was tooting horn and flashing lights. I had to back up into the lane next to me because no one was allowing me to turn, and going forward seemed foolhardy.

Sunday, the people my sister works with had a party on an island. I was pretty excited. Outdoors, on an island, in the sun and Slim could come and stretch his legs. This island is in the middle of their delta. A delta, my sister tells me, is created from levies. We brought steaks and ribs and chicken and strawberrry shortcake. As the boat pulled up to the makeshift dock, my jaw dropped. This island had no beach and no land to explore. It was 50 feet of high grass with a platform, and you could only walk on the platform. Slim got off his first boat, leaned off the dock and tried to walk on water. He'd mistaken the green slime on top of the water for grass. He did a straight nose dive and came up sputtering and swimming, with no beaches or low land for him to get a hold of to get out. He swam to me on the platform, people held my belt and we heaved him up. He lay on my lap for about 30 seconds without moving.

MISC THOUGHTS

Just started Isable Allende's "The House of Spirits". It starts with this poem:
How much does a man live, after all?
Does he live a thousand days, or one only?
For a week, or for several centuries?
How long does a man spend dying?
What does it mean to say "for ever"?

Pablo Neruda

A pure real book - Animal Dreams, by Barbara Kingsolver, had this passage:

The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you can hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance, but live right in it, under its roof.
Hallie

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FOUR September 10, 1993

Hello there...This may be the last letter for a while, as I've exhausted all my friends in the top half of the country, and I won't have a base from which to write continually. I am now truly on my own and on the road.

THE BAD NEWS
I debated about writing this depressing stuff, but depressing stuff is what I'm dealing with, and it's causing me more nightmares and tears than I'd like. The real world keeps trying to close in, as my medical got canceled (and then reinstated), my good tenant moved out (and no replacement has yet been found), the truck front brakes went, the idler needed replacing, I was told my tires were totally worn as they are car tires (4-ply) and not truck tires, and I found out that my portable CB, truck tool box and tapes had been stolen. Money issues are nasty, gross and upsetting. I keep repeating, "It's only money." But money allows me to do this, and without it, unfortunately, my dream doesn't happen. So it's got me down. But then I get a brochure from a horse racing school in Indiana, and I remember that I've always wanted to be a jockey, and here's my chance to learn. So I've written a letter to the owner, in hopes that I can barter work for classes, and life again looks good.

And then again, reality surfaces. And though I was positive that the owner of Hawkeye Racing School would absolutely want me to work for her, the reality is that her situation can't handle it right now, and I'm to call her back in November. This added to the bad dreams, as I had, in typical Claudia fashion, pinned all my hopes on working for her the next few months. I would like something concrete for a few months, particularly something where I was learning, and not spending much money. The traveling is starting to feel aimless and without focus, and the money issues just get more pressing. But this too will pass, after a few more good walks around Tine's property and a few more good noisy cries.

WHERE I'VE BEEN
I left my sister in Lodi, CA and headed north. The coast of California and Oregon are awesome, but out of my price range, so I headed into the interior of Oregon. The truck did not like the interior of Oregon, as we headed down a mountainous 20 mile road, only to lose our brakes with about 5 miles to go. Again, nice people told me to let the brakes cool, and I'd be able to get to Grants Pass. At Grants Pass, I went to a brake shop, where I met Pam. She was also waiting for her car. We got to talking, and I got an invite to dinner. She and her husband, Andy, were Saudi Arabia, Florida, Kansas transplants. Andy had just started his new job, and we talked of travel and the need to get every single thing you can out of every single moment, as they had lost an 18 year old son, two years ago, and they wear their pain constantly.

From their house, I breezed through Sisters, Brothers, Madras, Prineville, and Redmond. Chamber of Commerce's became my one stop in Oregon, full of friendly people and info on anything you could want to know about a town - temperature highs, lows, averages; biggest employers; age range of population etc. I liked Oregon, but it did not pull me the way Montana pulls me. Mt. is just so big and open and raw. Elloie, a Montana friend, has 5 acres, 6 horses, a man that loves her, her artwork and her sister who moved to the next town. It sounds pretty nigh purrfect to me. We did a lot of margarita drinking, horseback riding, and flower growing watching. Slim learned to follow horses, albeit a bit too closely. Penny, another MT friend, has a garden, apple trees, free downhill ski passes, a ski boat and a man that loves her and makes a mean apple pie. We spent a fun night, in the pouring rain, at a micro-brewery tour. You pay $15 for a mug, and get to sample about 20 beers from small breweries. I was told I was rubber-necking, as there were SOooooooooo many cute, fit guys in one place, my neck just kept swiveling.

From Montana, I stopped for a redux at the Burklands in Jackson, Wyoming. Slim and I spent our days on 3-7 mile hikes in a countryside that made me stretch out my arms and whoop and sing with joy. I'd be huffing and puffing up some hill, only to reach the top and have a vista of aspens and meadow and wildflower spread before me, with the snow-capped mountains as a backdrop. Pretty damn spectacular. Then nights would be spent in the hot tub, under a full moon and more stars than sky.

And I'm now back in Big Piney, Wyoming another piece of paradise on earth. Tine has been throwing dinner parties, and I've been a willing guest, eating lots of good food, listening to good conversation and doing a pretty mean clean-up patrol. Today we saddled her two very fat, did I say VERY FAT, Icelandic ponies, Heinrich and Sterner, and rode them through newly mowed hay fields. They had not been ridden all year, but didn't buck us off.

WHERE I'M HEADED
From Wyoming, I'm planning on scoping out Cedar City, Utah, and then Flagstaff, Sedona and towns around Tucson, Arizona. From there, it'll be New Mexico.


WHAT I WANT
I figure it is about time I started to write down what I'm looking for. I'm approaching it two ways. One will be a list, and the other will be random feelings. Here's a taste of both.

HORSES - I've been around horses this part of the trip, and I have never felt so free and open and exhilarated as when cantering an open field, or a wooded forest. If Hawkeye doesn't come through this year, I'll be checking out other equestrian centers, and seeing if I can learn a lot about horse care, with a minimum of time and money. And one day, soon, I'll have my horses.

LOVE - Would I like a passionate loving relationship? Absolutely! And I know there are some out there, because I've seen it. But I've also been the recipient of open hearts and homes as I've trucked through friend's homesteads on my journey. Friends are key to my well-being.

LAND - I love walking where there is no one, I love gazing at vistas undisturbed by phone lines and houses, I love the land. So I have to be someplace where I can afford land.

DOGS - Slim has been an excellent companion, though he still really does prefer men to women. I keep telling him to find one for me! But he's not very discriminating. But he also loves to tour around, and walk the country and just be. I will have many more greyhounds in my new life when I stop traveling and start my Greyhound Gang.

WARMTH - I don't like iccky weather. I don't like monotonous weather. I like warm weather better than cold, because I don't like to wear tons of clothes. I like shorts and shirts and untied sneaks without socks. I'm finding I don't need to wear something different everyday, or wear earrings. I need a lot of good books, and a lot of people and animal companionship. And I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

VEHICLE - I will not own a Chevy pick-up truck in my new life. I currently have a for sale sign in this one.



THOUGHTS
What are possessions? The measure of a man or woman? I had a house, a convertible, a 35 mm camera, an antique brass bed, 40 pairs of shoes, a Chanel suit, a corporate title and business cards. I sold, gave away or chucked all those. My possessions are now a dream catcher, a rain maker, a non-obeying greyhound named Slim, a neighing stick horse, Blackie, and my books.

I am free, light and whole. I'm defining myself by the quality of each day, and the people I meet and know, versus the quality of costly inanimate objects that consumed my prior life.

I'm searching for a place. Where I can put down roots and acquire real quality things. A sunset, the smell of sage, a running horse, a sleeping dog. Timeless and pure moments, so often missed in the pursuit of life.

I'm pushing my limits and expanding my boundaries. I became a mountaineer when I saved a dog stuck in a crevice, with a 25 foot drop in front of him. I'm trying to not feel guilty about not having a job, after having had one for 24 years. I'm trying to manage the fears that rear without a weekly income. I wake up every morning, and I say, "What do you want to happen today?" And with that wish comes all sorts of wondrous happenings. A golden eagle flies in front of the truck, a fox paces the road next to it, Slim comes when I call, and the truck doesn't break down one day.

What is the WHY of this? My astrologer says that this is a make or break year for me to change the pattern of my life. My mother says, "You'll never grow up." My tarot reader says it will be a very spiritual and creative journey for me. My friends tell me that I've been talking about it forever, and to just do it! They want me to write to them, to live vicariously through my writings. To be me for a day. And they say to me, "Aren't you scared? You're traveling alone, around the country. You've left it all behind, the daughter, the friend, the corporate manager, the homeowner. What will you do if you're robbed, raped, broken down, hungry, lonely?"

But these scenarios don't even enter into my mind. They're not what I fear. They're not as risky or scary as my attempts and audacity in putting pen to paper and saying, "I've got something to say that you'll find interesting, read on."

I'm not a writer. I'm a person who's been reading since she was 4. I got more stars than anyone, year after year, on the public library reading cards. The Black Stallion, Born Free, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Big Red. I devour written words. But write them?

I can edit. I can take a piece of writing and suggest ways to make it clearer, more succinct, more powerful for the reader. I have an intuitive sense of what feels and sounds right. But those are ordinary skills. That's fixing, not creating. Not the real stuff of emotions and adjectives and evocations of life.

How can I write when I don't know WHY? Is it the grass always greener? I envy my friends their homes and husbands. They have someone to kiss and hold and share with every night of their lives. They have a defined role - husband/wife/mother/father. I'm 40, single, childless and jobless. I'm 40, free and free and free. I'm a one million piece jigsaw puzzle, waiting for pieces to fall into place. Can I complete my jigsaw puzzle, if I'm not sure what the picture looks like? And if the pieces to complete the picture are scattered? Scattered in memories, daily actions, books read, and dreams remembered. I'm searching. Searching for those pieces, that significant click of puzzle piece finding puzzle piece, becoming whole. I want to have a clear purpose, a reason for being here. Attempting to define self, when previously self has been defined by what I did, what I drove, what I wore and how much I made.

And I'm searching-for something subtle and something that clubs me over the head. Something private and grand. Clean and free. Warm and enveloping. Womb-like. Home.

And everyone I know is rooting for me, because I'm doing what they think they want to do. Start anew, start over, just start in some cases. And I think I'd change places with them gladly. This burning knot in the pit of my stomach aches and smolders. It wants love and protection and caring and honesty. It wants sage brush, and horses, and dogs. It wants work that gives back to the land, to the people and ultimately to self.

And I'm on the road, asphalt massing under and through me. I've got the dream catcher, the rainmaker and my dog. I watch the exits roll by. To me, they're just miles I'm clicking off on the speedometer. To others, they're a destination reached, home.

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FIVE Started 10/1 Ended 10/22/93

It's 5 a.m. I've got insomnia again. Finished a book - On the Sargasso Sea. Tried to count sheep. Tried to get my brain to stop. It's a different insomnia than I used to have back East. That insomnia would intrude, was rude. It was insistent and pushy. I'd wake up and be grouchy. This insomnia is more gentle. Almost like waves of thoughts washing through me. This place has depths and levels I've yet to plummet. The opportunity to do something that helps to rebalance a small piece of the world exists here. I, of course, want to get it all done now. Plan the plan, affect the dream, move it forward, make it work. And it's all for something that makes a difference. Angel Canyon, where Best Friends Animal Sanctuary resides, was a place where the Anasazi (the first Indians) shamans over 1000 years ago would go to meditate, to commune. There's three concentric circles on one of the rock walls here. It marks the place where you can cross over to other worlds. I've crossed.

Switching now from mystic to cleric. Here's some real world thoughts. I'm set. I'm settled. At least for the winter. In my getting smaller by the day trailer. You can call me during the days (2 hour time difference) - 801-644-5662 or 801-644-2001. Or better yet, write. I really appreciate mail. me. c/o Best Friends Box G Kanab, UT 84741. I also travel. So if you've got plans that take you to Vegas, Salt Lake, Phoenix - they're all within my range!

Here's a copy of the magazine that I'm doing some writing for. Each month, I do more. This month Cindi and me, was totally rewritten by me, from an article Pam Sleeper sent in. I wrote the blurbs under It's a Dog's Life. (They put in that googey picture of me and my hand against my wishes. Of course Slim looks good) I helped with the Wish List. I wrote the copy for the products. (they are very cool!) And they made me do Doctrine of Kindness on the Animals and Religion page because I'm so unreligious. Nice guys...

HOW I GOT HERE
When I last wrote, I was lamenting that I'd exhausted most of my friends in the top half of the US and was now on my own. Looking for home. So I was meandering through Utah, with Arizona as my destination, and was checking out the south western corner - St. George, Hurricane, Gunlock, Cedar City. I liked it a lot. But it was already pretty built up, and land was expensive, if you could even find any. There was a parade through town with all the Mormon beauties and I decided to move on. I moved on through Kanab. I stopped at their Chamber of Commerce and got the demographics. 3000 people. Tourist town. Close to Grand Canyon, Bryce, Zion, Lake Powell. Then I went to a real estate office to get some idea about land prices. I was really just going through the motions, as the town was not as quaint as I was looking for. At the real estate office, a woman approaches me and Slim. She was oohing and ahhing over him. And asked me if I was going to the animal sanctuary up the road. I said, "What animal sanctuary?" In a flurry, she ran out, and ran back in with literature from a nearby store. I went to visit and see their greyhounds. And haven't left.

Some impressions:
Kanab - Mormons and Motels. Restaurants and Rest Stops. "The Greatest Earth on Show" - the town sign. 3000 people and one street light in town. Everywhere on the horizon big red rocks jutting into big blue sky. A Laundromat, where on Sundays, people from Connecticut come to do their wash.


Campground - Fronted by the Moonshadow, one of two establishments in Kanab that serve liquor. Backed by a red sand road that leads to a King Kong like red rock towering over you. Home for me.


Trailer - Finally using it...almost...like it's meant to be used. I even lit the gas for hot water, and thought I was going to die, as a big blast and pouf flew in my face. I survived to write again though. I still don't understand the poop process. Where it goes, how it goes and what I'm supposed to do to make sure it doesn't go backwards into my ittsy bittsy teensy weensy bathroom. I cannot gain weight because I would be unable to turn around in the shower. I have a cupboard of pots and pans, and have yet, in 5 months to use one of them.

I add an addendum to that last statement. It poured rain for about 24 hours, and my trailer started to leak in 3 places. So I used my pans to catch the water. I also climbed up on top of the trailer, laid new roof tar stuff around the skylights, and got back down safely. The guy at the hardware store, probably on purpose, did not tell me you needed kerosene to remove the tar from your hands, and I did not read the directions to the part that told you needed kerosene to remove the tar from your hands. So I had to walk a mile, with very black hands, to the nearest gas station to get something to get the tar off.

Parents - Got to see my parents for a few hours, while they were on a bus tour in Zion. Seeing them for so short a time, after so long a time, made me very conscious of how much my existence and being are tied to them. They hold many pieces to the puzzle. And, I, of course, played the daughter and asked them to do many favors for me when they got home. Like send me warm clothes, because it's 5000 elevation, and there is a winter here.


Land - The West is trying to be the East. I go into a real estate office and ask about land, and they think I'm talking about an acre. They are building developments out here, and those are the prestigious places to live! It appears that land is owned by the government or families that have been here forever. And if any land opens up, it is sold in small parcels to get more money. Also, water is owned by the state. You have to buy water rights. And since somebody else already owns them, you pay dearly.


Love - I went to Sleepless in Seattle tonight. I see why my friends told me not to go. It is such a perfectly perfect, freewheeling funny movie about fantasies becoming realities. And what have I been telling you guys. It can happen. And there's this whole part of me (us) that wants and watches and waits for my (our) fantasies, particularly about the opposite sex, to happen. And the rational beings in us are always trying to tell us it doesn't go like that. And a new friend here, just lent me this book called WE, written by a Jungian therapist, that analyzes and explains the whole thing about romantic love, and what a bogus thing it is, and how it ruins what could be good and real when you really know, care and respect another. But I (we) (Westerners - Europeans and us) go on saying I don't care - I need that romantic ideal, that tingle, that something undescribable. I could tear myself apart for the desire of it. And I do.

Weddings - I've been here 3 weeks and I've been to two weddings, and someone else I met here has decided she's in love and who knows? One wedding was of two displaced Connecticutites. They got married on their land (no house yet), by a gunslinger who's also a postman and a minister. Bud, a golden eagle, was a witness to their marriage, as were their parents and children. Porto potties and dutch ovens complete the picture. They are two of the happiest people I've met, and my new bestest friends in Kanab. Our weekly ritual is washing red rock sand off of our clothes every Sunday morning in the Laundromat.

Then there was the Best Friends' wedding at a place called Angel's Landing. A surreal serene outcropping from the red rock, with natural ponds nestled under rocks, and soft green grass. One of the ponds has crawfish in it. And the view of the canyon and surrounding rocks juxtaposes with the magical secrets of the place.

Signs - A passing rainstorm resulted in the biggest, bestest rainbow I've ever seen. From end to end, lime green, papal purple, lipstick pink, sky blue, lemon yellow buffeted against the clouds and red rock.

A sky covering sunset in pastel pinks and purples had my complete attention as I was headed home (to the trailer) on a red sand road. I was so focused on it, I almost hit a herd of gray deer that had crossed the road in front of my truck. I sat there in the middle of them, as they stared at me and I stared at them. They flew off when Slim barked his greeting to them. While this was all happening, in the space of less than a minute, the song, "There's a Place For Us" was wailing from my radio.

A week after I'd been volunteering, a woman left Best Friends' employ, which opened up a spot for me.

Slim - I battle with Slim every night about getting in the truck. Because he has the run of the land where Best Friends office is, and greets everyone with his infamous smile, he doesn't want to leave. He lays out on the deck, on his dog bed, and every hour comes inside to ask me if we're going for a hike yet, or for a ride. When I have to do an errand, he follows me down the road a ways, but still refuses to go with me, and then, according to the staff, whines and acts like he misses me, until I return. Where he then goes into his, "I missed you so much, how could you leave me" routine. I find it all very charming. He is my bestest dog. And I tell him that at least 10 times a day. I do wish though his bones were not so boney when he tries to curl up next to my sleeping bag. And I do wish he'd stop eating the horse manure and other assorted ground droppings.

My day - I get up sometime after 7. Shower. Dress. Watch Slim do his thing and then get in the truck and hope it starts. My usual attire is shorts, and lately a sweatshirt over a T-shirt, as the mornings are getting colder. Sneakers, socks and of course, earrings complete the outfit. At work, we recount a dream or two. And laugh. During the day, I switch desks and computers about 7 times. I'm the roving worker, currently. Work is varied. Writing articles, booklets. Analyzing flows of data and processes. Working on tactical/strategical plans. Licking stamps and envelopes. Stuffing bills and renewal notices. Talking to people who wander in. Going on adoption runs to Vegas. Talking to Slim, who stops by at least every hour to see if we're going to play. I try to take a short hike every day. And I'm riding 2-3 times a week. I do this 7 days a week. Happy.

Winter - I hear different things from everyone. "Only 2 months long, sunny and not that much snow." "You need 4-wheel drive (of course my stupid truck is only 2 wheel), the cold is unbelievable, the slush goes on forever, there can be days without the sun..." so who knows? But my parents sent me more sweatshirts and sweat pants and jackets than I could ever use, so I should be OK until I get home for the holidays. Lesson here - Never say never. I do remember saying I was going to be warm and toasty in New Mexico and Arizona this winter.

Home for the Holidays - I'm flying in from Salt Lake City, and leaving Slim with Tine and Bill in Big Piney, Wyoming. I was going to drive a Geo Metro home for the holiday, so I could take Slim, but everyone convinced me that that was a really stupid idea. So Tine and Bill saved the day and said they would love to have Slim. Oh, the dates - mark your calendars - DEC 20 -29th. Can't wait!

Belated Happy Birthday to all I forgot. I didn't mean to!
Keep your good thoughts coming my way. They're helping to make this happen for me.

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chapter six Started March 22, 1994

The opening to my first chapter... "Cheshire Puss," she (Alice) began... "would you please tell me which way I ought to go from here?"

"That depends on where you want to get to," said the cat.

And I wasn't sure where I wanted to get to, so I wasn't sure where I was going to end up. But "sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast," (Alice's Adventures in Wonderland) and they just might as well be Claudia's Adventures in the US, 'cause all those impossible things aren't.

Redux
Boy, have I missed you guys! This was all about taking life at a more leisurely pace, but maybe I just have to come to terms with "I don't do leisurely!" I feel like I'm a top, spinning here, bouncing off to there, and whirling off to somewhere else. And last year this time I'd left my job, and my truck's got 10,000 more miles, and I was home for Christmas, and it's March and I'm 41. And I've been in Kanab, Utah for over 5 months, and it only gets better.

Playing At Working
And better. I'm still not making ends meet, but it seldom gets in my way. I'm certainly working enough. First, I'm a realtor. Took 90 hours of classes, (so did Slim - I snuck him into the back of class one day, and the instructor didn't even notice until break time), and we passed the test in February. Sold one lot so far for $17,000. A lot to learn, and not a whole lot of money to be had because the average price of a sale down here is $50,000. you get 1/2 of a 1/2 of 6%. But is it fun! I talk to lots of new people, and get to go into people's houses. Of course, I'll be keeping my eye out for my land. What better vantage point. So if you want to invest - this place is going to boom. There are people from California coming in every day, just scooping up land. There's this adorable "Sears Roebuck" house. Yup, bought in 1912 from a Sears catalog for $648.15. It included paint and a china cupboard. It's a gingerbread victorian, and is only $59,900.

And there's my real paying job - it's all about rubber stamps. Rubber stamps that are kind of like tupperware. You see, you invite your friends over, and a woman comes into your home, and you learn how to make greeting cards, and lots of other cute things with rubber stamps - and there are many, many very cool techniques - the simplest (and most boring) is using a stamp pad. And then these women buy more stamps and accessories, and then they show all their friends - and then - well you get the picture. Anyway this company was started 5 years ago by 2 sisters (with 4 girls each) and they are currently a 2 million dollar business and plan to double this year! So I showed up flashing my flashy resume - and they hired me. And we're still figuring out what I'll do. Currently my title is Sanity Saver. And they are the most fun, and we laugh a lot, and I'm easing my way into their lives, and they into mine, (I'm babysitting for 4 of the girls on Thursday night) and this could really be something super. I mean it's pretty super right now, but it could be something very full-time that actually uses my old business skills, and might earn me a living (that's more than $15,000 a year out here!) But I'm currently balking about working more than 20 hours a week, 'cause I'd then have to be in an office - and i've really had enough of that.

So I'm a pretty happy camper. Two jobs that have lots of potential, and are fun. Oh, I forgot, I have a third job. I'm also working with two video guys and helping them film travel vignettes for this area. Coral Pink Sand Dunes is where I want to make love (should I ever again). Long, undulating dunes of the tiniest granuales of sand. It runs over your body minutely caressing and arousing. And I placed my body at the top of a dune, and spun over and over dizzy and breathless at the bottom.

Oh, I almost forgot, Job number 4 as a freelance writer. I've sent off a few articles to magazines, and just yesterday got my first acceptance. So you must keep on eye on Trailer Life magazine, my article "Me and My Trailer" should be appearing soon.

New Home
But enough of jobs. I've found an apartment. It's off of an airplane hanger which is on the property of a real adobe house on 36 acres. Surrounded by acres of BLM (government) land. It's slightly bigger than the trailer - a bedroom/living room combo, kitchen and shower/toilet closet. The best part - I'm able to hang up some clothes, take a long hot shower, and even sleep in sheets. My trailer has taken it's last trip behind the truck, and it rolled and bobbed behind me, creaking and protesting to settle outside my new home. I'm inside it now. It is my creative place. I'm home there. I don't think I will ever sell it. And if you come to visit you can experience some of my journey, by staying in my trailer. flights to Las Vegas are cheap. And I'm only 3 1/2 hours from there! And you can see Zion, and Bryce and I know a secret way to the north rim of the Grand Canyon, where there's a no fences, no people and a 3000 foot drop.

I'm now taking a hot shower that lasts long enough for me to wash, body and hair and shave my legs. I have bookends to put my books between. I have a full length closet (already full). I've bought plants to bring the outdoors in. I've planted grass to walk barefoot in. An immature golden eagle lives around me. Slim has over 36 acres to roam in, and he comes when I call. And I'm writing this while listening to James Taylor sing, "you've Got A Friend".

Freedom. And it's so much more than just another word for nothing left to lose. It's a word that means I decide when I wake up. How long I'll read before I go to bed. What I'll do today. What each minute means. The freedom to be exactly who I want to be, to imagine and create situations where every choice smiles.

I met Seline when she was walking her dog Goldie, and she said to me,
"I just want to do that parasailing thing before I die. It'll be just like a bird, don't you think?" Seline is in her 70's.

And there's the woman who runs a local Chamber of Commerce, and who proudly gave me a tour of her new Ford Taurus. And showed me her highlighted map of places visited. Four thousand miles in 2 months. To come and go where she wants, when she wants. Her map of her yellow brick road trip to Oz and beyond. She's in her 60's.

Slim Update
Slim, potential major disaster turned into not such a big deal. He was hunkering after a cat in the bush, and came up with a huge howl and a pinky width and length size stick in his eye. No eye showing, just this stick sticking out. I instinctively pulled, and out it came, and with my hand cupped over his eye, I tried to call vets. But it was 7 pm, and I had to drive 1 1/2 hours to the nearest available vet. I was sure the stick had gone into his brain, or into his eye. When we got there, Slim was standing up and looking out of both eyes, and it appears the membrane around the eye parted for the stick, and all he got was a scratched cornea, and it should heal OK. Luckily I'd brought the stick with me, so when the cop stopped me, I whipped out the stick and he waved me on!

Food, Glorious Food
My newest treat to eat is a vegetarian sandwich. It nicely supplements my other stables which include salad, cheese and crackers, Crispix cereal, toast and nachos.

You take a really neat grained bread and lightly toast it. Then you put sliced cheese (I like jalapeno jack) on one side of the bread and put it back into the toaster oven to melt slightly from the heat of the oven. Then you add sprouts, cucumbers, tomatoes (the basics) and then depending on what's in the fridge you can use avocado, onions, scallions, red cabbage etc. I put only real Hellman's mayo on one side, and I just discovered this, a dollop of Italian dressing - I'm very partial to Bernstiens - and voila - one of the best sandwiches you've ever had. I've had that for about 5 days each week for the past 3 weeks.

Oh, I forgot to update you on my last job at Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. They fired me because "They only wanted people working for them with positive attitudes and sunny dispositions." So do you think it was my evil twin that was working for them for over 4 months? Silly people. They could have come up with something more believable to fire me for, like I was embezzling dogs or something. But I wouldn't have found Stampin'Up! if they hadn't fired me - so absolutely everything works out for the better! They are going through some major changes, from a religious organization to a non-profit one. Their Heart is in the right place, but they have some growing up to do. They ask my opinions, but then they don't like it when I give them. Oh well - it'll all work out.

I'm writing this instead of Cleaning - I just get no satisfaction from it. I want things clean, but I don't want to take the time to do it. I'd rather be hiking, or reading, or even working - but cleaning? The apartment I'm moving into has not been lived in for 2 years - so there is an accumulation of dirt in there. The worst is the accumulation of spiders. YUK! I'll pick up snakes, I'll sleep with just about any animal - but spiders. YUK! When I was little I had a recurring nightmare about spiders hanging from the ceiling and asking me to marry them. "Marry me, Marry me" they were all chorusing in high squeaky voices. I started crying so loud, my dad came in and woke me up out of the nightmare. I told him that I didn't want to marry any of them, and he said I didn't have to.

So today I bombed the place, and vacuumed them all up.

No there's been no men in my life.

"Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?" (Alice's Adventures in Wonderland)

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The Life You Save - Chapter Seven September 21, 1994

Well, hello! Long time no write. Here's why. 'Cause I'm back in the rat race. At least as much of a rat race as they have in Kanab, UT. Which probably makes it more of a mice race than a rat race. But I decided I needed to make some money. And I actually have a job out here I like, and that has a lot of potential, and the people are fun to work with, and they are paying me a decent hourly wage (for out here), so I've been working for a living. And so, not having as much fun as I was last year. AHhhhhhh, money. Or as Pablo said, "I'd like to live like a poor man with lots of money." Or Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Money cost too much."

So I'm working full-time at STAMPIN' UP!, and they want to make me office manager. I'd rather not. They're just looking for someone to be around day in and day out, and I did that way back when. So we'll just wait and see what they really want. I'm sort of out of real estate, though I'd like to dabble in it. I didn't like it. Still don't have a handle on why not, but something to do with people treating you like dodo, and wheeling and dealing going on that I had no clue, etc. etc.

And I'm moving forward with some dreams, modifying others - oh so adult of me. And no, there's been no men, and it's getting mighty lonely. I did make one error in men judgment recently, but I just kept repeating my mantra, "Yes, I am alive. I can feel sexual again. Someone was attracted to me, and I was attracted to him. Yes, Yes, I am alive." But I scared the hell out of him, (me too, actually) and never heard from him again. So it goes. On and on.

But my dream of starting a greyhound rescue organization is very near. I'm incorporated as a non-profit in Utah. I've sent in all my paperwork for tax-exempt status to the IRS, and next week I go to pick up 2 greyhounds in Tucson. To take into my home, train and adopt out. Greyhound Gang is official. Soon you'll get my pitch to donate money to me instead of Greenpeace and World Wildlife Fund.

Can't sleep. I want, want, want - what? what? what? someone to sleep with me. Something more in my life than making money - a living. A place with roots - that feels right.

What's right? When you're sitting in your place after a rainstorm, and rainbow unfolds to you.

When you're driving in your car and a retriever is running along side, matching you pace for pace with the pure joy of prairie grass and red sand flying.

When you meet a man, and his eyes light on you, and he reaches to inadvertently touch you, and your body electric responds.

When it's midnight and the stars blanket the sky and there's no longer a sky, only stars - glimmering with dreams and hopes and you watch them fall - all around you.

And you can't sleep at night 'cause it all whirls round and round, and the noise pounds at you, and you don't know where it'll land and who you're supposed to be.

And you watch video after video endless, numbless, a way to stop the noise, to watch the noise.

And nothing tastes good. And you crave nothing. But a touch. Human. Animal. A connection. A need. A desire.

September 30
Are you sitting down. I've done it. I've sold out. Not forever, mind you. Just for a little. The almighty dollars have hooked me in. I'm embarrassed. I'm depressed. I've been having a few too many drinks. (Ever try Cave Creek beer - it has a hot chili in it!). Anyhow, I'll be in Orlando, Florida for the next month or two or three...starting next week. Yes, starting next week.

Here I was traveling along this lovely road in Kanab, Utah. Had a job I liked, friends I liked, apartment I liked, even had a bid in on a home I liked, got the Greyhound Gang almost all set up, was drafting a letter to Oprah about why she should do a show on greyhounds - and out of nowhere I'm sideswiped by a call from (drum roll please) CORPORATE AMERICA. WE WANT YOU! Well since my affectionate life has been pretty nigh nonexistent, want from any quarter is mighty appealing - especially when it's followed up with big bucks!. So Slim and I are on a plane next week. In three weeks Time Warner is launching a shopping service similar (maybe) to Prodigy's in Orlando (their first test market) and they don't have a back-end support system in place. They got my name as the back-end expert (what does that mean?) and offered me more money than I'll have made all year. So who'd have thought! Gosh, I hope I remember all that stuff I did...

Speaking of stuff I did...Here's the fill in on all the stuff I've been doing since I wrote to you last April...wow it's been a long time...

I was this close to purchasing my dream property and home. Ten acres, adobe home, airplane hanger, renter's apartment, grape vine tree trunks for ceiling, terra cotta rock floors, backed up on BLM (government) land. Had a verbal commitment. Owner sold to someone else. I trusted her.

Had an apartment for three months (the apartment that was on the property that I was going to buy), and then had to move back into my trailer. Camped on some amazing land for two months. Coyotes serenaded me every night. Rabbits ate all my flowers. Slim and I made a friend of Golden Retriever Gonzo, who'd run 20 mph for over 2 miles next to my car on the red dirt road to work. Moon rises to moon over.

Real Estate not my thing. Too salesy. Working full time at stamp business. Lots of fun and good people. Variety. Challenge.

Sold two articles to DOGS USA. Should be out in January. Trailer Life article still hasn't appeared.

Bought new (used) car. Rodeo Isuzu. Black. Loaded. Cool. Sweet. Traded in truck. Cried. ( I know, what a fool am I)

Fell (hard) for unavailable man. Only for a weekend. Cried. (I know, what a fool am I)

Realized I needed more life and excitement than Kanab has to offer. Been to Vegas a few times, but am not much of a gambler with my hard earned money. At least there's lot of people to look at.

Moved into a very cute, high ceiling, spacious one bedroom apartment. Am acquiring things again. Like an antique mahogany bureau, old candy box, greyhound tapestry from Belgium. It feels nice to have a space to accumulate things in.

Greyhound Gang moving forward. Was all set to get two dogs from the track in Tucson. Will put on hold until I return. Working on brochure, manual, grants etc.

A View of Springtime
It's a May morning and I'm sitting out soaking up the rays in my too small Vittadini bikini that only appears when I'm alone surrounded by hundreds of acres of sage and juniper and crested wheat.

But I'm not alone because the birds are heavy into mating this Sunday. They're chasing each other all over my tin roof, clanging and banging. It's quite annoying. I mean, how about a little respect for the single, it's grown back again, I'm tired of sleeping with the dog, virgin below them. Their incessant chattering about the blue sky and the joy of being alive and the need to make whoopee is giving me a migraine.

So I go to water the flowers, and watch them spread their petals with thirst, and I pick up a pot to move it, and there's two earthworms wrapped tightly around each other.



So...Hope your life is being. Think about visiting or writing. Pray for Slim on his first airplane ride. If you want to laugh or congratulate me about this new situation, you can still call me at 801-644-2903 and get my machine which will have my Orlando number on it.

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The Life You Save - Chapter Eight December 1994

Orlando, Florida and Corporate America. Who'd have thought? But here I am. So, where am I? I'm in a place where everyone drives a spanking brand new shiny car. And washes it all the time. And drives it fast and furious all the time. Everyone lives in a spanking new apartment complex, on top of one another. There isn't even a big enough piece of grass to let Slim loose on. Speaking of grass, it's ugly and flat, doesn't bend when you walk on it and it certainly doesn't invite you to luxuriate in it. The food is all brands and all fast at every venue you can think of - and some you haven't - Chuckee Cheese, Macaroni Grill, Miami Subs, TGIF, Taco Bell, Backyard Burger.... This place has no smell and no depth and I work and eat and watch movies.

Corporate America. I cannot believe I did this for 13 years of my life. There is nothing about putting on stockings, putting on airs, putting on a suit, just putting on that appeals to me. It's rush rush rush, get the job done, work harder, work longer, be seen and be heard. And every one's so earnest about it all. I'm right back into the corporate routine of wake up, shower, dress, make-up and drive. Work. Then drive home, stop at the grocery store, at the video store, vegetate in front of the TV, eat until your stomach hurts, go to bed, and do it all again.

So, can you tell? I can't wait to get back to Kanab. When I get home, I can't wait to get more greyhounds, train them, love them and find them good homes.

And here's the really great news (and the pitch). I'm now a bonafide, non-profit, tax exempt, charitable organization called Greyhound Gang. And you can donate anything you'd like. And it will be unbelievably appreciated. And absolutely used directly for the rescue and rehabilitation of ex-racing greyhounds. So, really, does Greenpeace and World Wildlife and United Way really need your money? Not like we do!

So whether in 1994, or 1995 (based on your charitable deduction needs), please find it in your heart to give to the Greyhound Gang. The amount is not the issue, the action is. And the action will be very appreciated by the Gang.

OK. I did it. I asked you for money. It's easier in a letter than in person, that's for sure! The enclosed brochure also helps explain where your dollars will go. And if you can send at least $30, Slim will send you an autographed copy of the 1995 Greyhound Calendar. (Retail value $10-12). I will also send a financial statement to donors every year, so you can see exactly how your money is being spent. When I get on Oprah, I'll tell her about all my wonderful friends who helped me get started, and who believed in my dream and journey as much as I did.


Some passing thoughts:

Airport Connections
And you're striding down the airport corridors. Purpose etched in the swinging arms and strutting legs. A plane to catch. I'm someone with somewhere to be. And your periphery vision catches another striding, towards you, purposely. And you look up and catch his eye, and with his arms swinging, he passes you by,


What is it about airports that make you want to make ill-fated calls.
You're passing banks of phones, black, shiny, gleaming - screaming at you - pick me up.
Call him! Get him to say he'll miss you. Let him know you're off for exotic parts unknown, without him.
So you call the man who dumped you. Just to say hi...in a cheery voice.
So you call the man you haven't talked to in over a year. Just to say hi...in a cheery voice.
And you call the man you're just getting to know. Just to say hi....in a cheery voice.

Before you take to the sky, airborne, disembodied. Lost . Gone. Whisked into the clouds.
To make a final connection.



Wild Thing
And he sits across from you in the car, and says, 'Can I ask a favor?'
And you say 'Sure,' not sure what it can be.
And he says, 'a kiss, I'd like a kiss.'
And you laugh, and say, 'OK.'
And he leans across the car seat and he looks into your eyes, and grazes his lips with yours, and rubs his nose scross yours, and kisses each corner of your smile, and grabs the bottom of your lip between both of his, and an hour later you're both counting to ten, and you're trying to think about returning to the car and driving home, and you're sprawled on the grass outside a dorm, and he's 21 and so are you... again.



Since this is tripling as a direct mail piece, Chapter 8 and my Holiday wishes to you, I wanted to write something holiday - like. Something thankful and heartfelt. So I looked back over my year...

The Joy of Small Pleasures:
like watching the moon rise over my trailer as Slim and I sit on a rock, gazing
like Gonzo, a neighborhood golden, leaping sage and racing red dirt, as he beats my truck to work daily
like conversations with my parents that always end in I Love You
like confidences with friends that always leave me feeling blessed
like walks in wide open uninhabited lands that give up sights of coyote and fox and raven and rabbit
like the thoughts that you really do enjoy reading this stuff
like a touch unasked for
like the magic of making connections

Wishing you as many small pleasures as you can cram into your life. Joy to the World.

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The Life you Save - Chapter Nine February 28 - March 1, 1995

It's the night before my birthday - and I had really (honestly and truly) forgotten that until just now. I'm trying to light a fire in my wood burning stove, and it's been over a half hour and all I can get lit is the matches and paper - and I'm fast running out of both of those. 'Come'n baby light my fire' A metaphor for my life perhaps - I can light a fire under myself - but I can't seem to get anything else lit. What shall I do with myself tomorrow to make it seem like my birthday? Or should I just not acknowledge it? Not acknowledge it - my mother would croak. We celebrate birthdays big time at the Presto house. Everyone must call everyone else - of course now, my brothers and sister don't even send presents - much less cards, but they will call! Thank goodness my mom and dad always come through with moola and mushy thoughts.

I just ran out to get one of those fake logs - I wanted a fire badly and it just wasn't happening with the wet wood I was using - ahhhh more metaphor - you need the right type of wood to get a fire started and my choice of wood seems to be all wet. 'Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head' And really I haven't been drinking - though that's a thought I hadn't thought of for tomorrow - maybe I'll try and be drunk all day. My roommate and I tried that once in college - we were going to be drunk all weekend. So we bought three bottles of Cold Duck, started Friday night and at 5am on Saturday morning we fell asleep and woke up feeling so horrible we didn't drink for a long time.

Wow, college - I had a great roommate but we haven't been in touch since college - why is that? I don't even know where she is. We had a blast, she was the coolest person in the dorm and I don't even know where she is? Maybe I should try and find her. So I've just called information cause I think her parents live in Narberth, PA and I got two numbers and I called one and it was her sister-in-law and she gave me Louise's number in Ithaca and she wasn't home - no answer - not even an answering machine - jeez louise this is the 20th century and no answering machine!! So I'll try again later.

I think I'll go and make rice krispie treats for myself for my birthday tomorrow. I just love rice krispie treats. When I worked at Waldenbooks with some very fun, smart, lovely women we had many schemes to make it rich and famous and not have to work. Of course we concocted all these schemes when we were at work. One of them was a rice krispie treat franchise, kind of like Mrs. Fields, but we would just sell a variety of rice krispie treats. 'Snap, Crackle, Pop'. So to test the market, we made different kinds of treats - some with chocolate on top, some with nuts inside, some with chocolate chips inside, some with butterscotch chips inside - you name it we thought of it. And then we'd bring in the guys we worked with and make them rate them from 1-10. We kept a running tally on the bulletin board. That year someone came out with rice krispie treats in packages to be sold in stores. I am still known for my ability to bring a mean batch of rice krispie treats as my offering to many fancy meal occasions.

It's the morning of my birthday and I just don't know what to do with myself first. So I tried my old college roommate again, and she was home - and recognized my voice almost immediately and what fun it was to condense our lives into a one hour summary. Me, the traveler, wanderer always looking, sometimes finding. She lived through a marriage not meant to be, though gifted with three kids and a doctorate in music and hooked up with a man from her UConn past. Her laugh was the same, though her delivery was more somber. I was elated to have made a connection to someone who remembers me at 20 and not 42. Yeah, I want to be remembered at 20. If I only knew then what I know now. 'Glory Days'. I've decided that when someone asks me my age I'm going to say 40 until I reach 50 and then I'll say 30. I've decided that the last living virgins on this earth are those of us who have never gotten married (and of course, all your kids). I've decided that when someone says to me, yet again, 'I can't believe you've never been married', I'm going to tell them I'm sleeping with my dog.


I look around this 2 room upstairs garage apartment, still trying to figure out how I should spend my day and there is stuff everywhere. To my left are my golf clubs and tennis rackets sprawled against the wall, 3 boxes of files from STAMPIN' UP!, an huge empty box which had a new greyhound picture in it, and the first sweetest greyhound up for adoption from the Greyhound Gang, 'Darlin'. On the counter top are piles and piles of different pieces of paper - Visa bills, IRS receipts, letters to answer, birthday cards, lists of things to do. Behind me are more file boxes, filled with Greyhound Gang paraphernalia, home building ideas with little pink post-it notes brightly sticking up, Florida Time Warner files, piles of dog catalogs, and magazines needing to be read and blankets and sheets needing to be put away, wet wood drying in front of the fire and Slim on the couch. I'm not even going to describe what's in the bedroom. I've been back from Florida for a week. And I'm exactly where I want to be.

Hope you're where you want to be on your birthday, doing what you want to be doing and that all your rooms are clean.

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Chapter Ten May/June 1995


My life as a dog.
Since we last spoke, when I went on about my birthday, my life has now gone to the dogs. Greyhounds, of course. Last month I placed 7 from the 9 male dogs I had in my two room apartment. They were hanging from the rafters. I got that wrong, I was hanging from the rafters. I don't think I'll do 9 again, but not because they weren't good. They were fine. I was the one still recovering from the Jazz Fest where I became everyone's second wife, gay and straight, and imbibed more than I have in a year's time, and got pretty sick when I got home. Then I had all these hounds appear in my life, and they were so excited and so didn't want to sleep much, so I didn't get to sleep much, and I scooped a lot of poop, feed a lot of food, gave a lot of baths, taught a lot of stair climbing and killed a lot of ticks, so I'm pretty exhausted. During all this I lost my best guy. Life and death never rest. I find homes for 7, and I lose the best one.

The worst part is when I'm trying to sleep. The pictures flash through my mind, playing over and over, accusing, I lost my big guy today. It was all my fault. I was working, and I let the Slim and Yukon out to run and play for 10 minutes. Yukon wandered into the highway and his neck got broken by a car going fast, and he was laying in the road, with his neck twisted, his big brown eyes wide open and huge patches of his hair totally wiped off from his body. He must have taken the impact straight on and how could anyone have not seen him. How could anyone have hit him. It may have been that I was calling him and he was running towards me, and didn't see the car. Though he'd only been mine for a month, he was the best. He knew we belonged together - he'd been adopted out twice, but insisted on staying with me and he listened when I spoke and he came when I called and he adored me and I adored him and now he's gone. I don't think I will ever forgive myself, it's not like putting a dog down that you've had a good life with - he was only three years old and we were going horseback riding next week once we adopted out all these other guys. He was my best guy and I will miss him so much and I could just rant and wail and shave my head and throw myself down on the grave and just die. I dug his grave and I buried him, and his blood is in my car, and on my clothes and on my skin and will always be on my hands.



This last group I just got is really diverse.

Beauty - found wandering the streets of Tucson. No name. No history. Five years old. 50 lb. fawn female. Doe like eyes that follow you everywhere, pleading. And I stayed up three nights with her as she was running a temp of 104.7, and I didn't want her to die on me. I make hamburger and rice and sit with her while she eats and feed her the rest from my hand that she doesn't want. And she melts and breaks your heart all at once.

Tall Indian (Injun) - A big black teenage adolescent, 80 lb. of inquisitiveness, goofiness and fun. Doesn't want to miss a thing, so always follows you everywhere. Eager to please and eager to have fun. Every morning when he gets up and does his l-o-n-g stretches, he also emits noisy farts. At least they're not the smelly kind. A greyhound fart will clear a room. Broken hock caused the end to a quick, but successful Grade A career.

Go By Jet (Jet) - One tough cookie. Recently spayed and a growth developed near the spay, so we had to perform more surgery. She fought it all the way, wouldn't go down. Now has two incisions with stitches along her abdomen, and she could care less. Full of energy, spunk and I'm going to get my share attitude. Very bossy and very smart. Doesn't take anything from anyone. Is always first to be petted, to be feed.


Jet just left. Her adoptive parents came to pick her up. Is it the right home, will these people really love her, will she be happy? There's a piece of me that is given to each one and a piece of me that is torn out when each one goes. This is what I do now. How I define my life. I take dogs into my home and heart and then I give them to other's homes and hearts. It is the best thing I can do. And it fills me up and tears me apart.


My life really gone to the dogs
Just got back from Men of Seduction. Wouldn't have dreamed of going to a male revue in my former incarnation, but then I wouldn't have gone to The Goofy Movie either.

So I went with 12 other 'it's grown back' virgins. We screamed and howled and gasped and begged and dreamed. We were race car drivers revving our motors waiting for the flag to signal our start. We were junkies drooling for our next fix. We were all wild and brazen and aching for love (?). And we drove home with our engines still running, overheating under the hood, in various stages of withdrawal.

Two nights ago I dreamt I was with Clint Eastwood in a very romantic way. Last night I dreamt I was with Kevin Costner. Tonight, I'm hoping for Kneau Reeves. What a (dream) life I lead.

Also hung out with 10 hockey players in Vegas for the weekend. Not one of them touched me. 'They were showing me 'respect'. Did I ask for this respect? Did I want this respect? Am I that old that all I can get is respect!!!!!??????


Other Stuff
You might be asking, as my mom does everytime I speak with her - Are you working? I am utterly consumed by the greyhound thing. My time, my bank account, my heart. But I do put in some hours with my wonderful company - STAMPIN' UP!. I work out of my home for them on any project they earmark for me. I do their monthly newsletter, I've been organizing their personnel materials and doing initial interviews. I help research things like insurance and copiers. Whatever they want, I do it! And I love working for them, they are the best! I just need a little more discipline, and a few more hours working on their stuff, not greyhound stuff.

Only negative vibes are from current tenants in my CT. home. After months of paying the rent, they've decided the rent is too high, so they went to Fair Housing, and we're now going to a hearing, and they will tell me what I can charge. Unbelievable that someone can tell you how much you can charge for rent. Not like I'm not losing money every single year I own that stupid house.

Trailer Life article still has not appeared. Still working on the letter to Oprah. I'm also writing to Letterman to try to get greyhounds on his show. No other creative stuff happening, except I finally wrote you another chapter. Bought 1.7 acres and am trying to find funding so I can build my greyhound home.

Just got great news! Slim and I are Calendar girls! We will be February in the 1996 greyhound calendar. How appropriate. I'm being kissed by a dog, and that picture is gracing Valentine's Day month. My life as a dog...

All in the town were still asleep
When the sun came up with a shout
and a leap.
In the lonely streets, unseen by man,
A little dog danced
And the day began.
Rupert Brooke

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Chapter Eleven September 1995



New News
It's Saturday at 6:30 in the morning, and I'm on the floor with nuts and bolts and wood and directions and I'm putting together a 72' tower. It's certainly not like the Rapunzel tower where the fair maiden spent her days waiting for the handsome man to rescue her and install the shower massager, replace the toilet bowl, haul eight hoses around 2.5 acres - oh, I've bought a home. 900 sq. ft, pink vinyl sided thing, with fake paneling, orange and brown swirled shag rug and chiffon curtains.

I finally have men on my property. OK, so I had to pay them to be there. They're fixing up my 'estate'. Sprinkler systems, fencing, walls knocked down, walls built up, paneling gone, pasture seeded. Yep, I got me a corral, and I'm gonna get me a horse - even if it is number 10 on the priority list right now.

Tumbleweed - currently green and thorned and jumping out at me all over my property. I put on the heavy duty gloves gifted to me by a tire repair guy on the road to LA when I blew a tire. I walk around the property and I bend down and pick at every tumbleweed in the ground. It's become an obsession - kind of like squeezing pimples in the mirror in college - ah, there's one, there's another one, got that one, yep, there's another.


Dog News
Had five dogs when I moved, then went down to three -my own, Slim and Beauty, and Jennie, a returnee who has recently decided she doesn't like men, and so when someone comes to adopt her, she gets all shy and nervous. Smart one pulling tricks like that! I picked up three more this Friday in Flagstaff. One will go next week to Vegas to a good home. That'll leave 5 - manageable - if the fence gets up!

Getting new greyhounds is such a high. I drive either 4 1/2 hours one way to Flagstaff, or to Tucson for an 11 hour ride. And it flashes by. Because getting new greyhounds is like Christmas gifts waiting to be opened, jigsaw puzzles waiting for the pieces to fall in place, pieces of my heart given out. I'm the one that sees their firsts...

First time they-
lay in the grass and roll around
climb stairs on their own
look in the mirror and bark at the dog they see there
find a stuffed animal and throw it in the air
look at me and realize they've got it made

And then their lasts...
Looks through a fence or a car window, as they go from my life to someone else's. And I want to hug, hold and demand undying loyalty - but I'm silent...outwardly.


And I'm trying to unpack stuff, and a collar ends up in my hand. It's scuffed and worn and smells of dog - one specific dog - Yukon. He's reached out from wherever he is, and he helped me win a contest and a computer. You can read about it in Entrepreneur magazine in November. A day doesn't go by that I don't think of him...and cry.

For all the ones I've adopted out, and all the ones that I'll continue to bring into my home, I lost Yukon and Injun, and their loss is a constant rhythm in my heart.


Greyhound Gang Pitch

Below is information about the Gang income and expenses so you can see exactly where the money you donated went. If you can, I'd really appreciate another donation. It's absolutely and completely tax deductible. If you'd like a 1996 Greyhound Gang calendar - Slim and I are February's calendar girl and dog - please include what you feel is enough of a donation and let me know you'd like one. Slim and I will, of course, autograph it!

Greyhound Gang - Income & Expense From January 1, 1995 through September 1, 1995

Income
Donations 31 2881.31 Everything you donated went directly to the rescue and
Adoptions 11 1520.00 rehabilitation of the dogs. The $2000 I put in also went to
Me 2005.39 items like fencing, printer, thank you gifts, car repairs etc.
_______
6406.70


Expenses
Travel 1376.05 Tucson, Vegas, Salt Lake, St. George, Cedar City, Flagstaff

Medical 1157.09 This is extremely discounted because of the kindness of Dr. Richard Allen of Salt Lake and Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, Kanab

Advertising 1118.83 Advertisements, Photos, Mailings, Printing of all brochures/adoption forms/manuals, products to help advertise

Dog Supplies 764.72 Food, bedding, toys, chews, collars, tags, shampoos, flea products etc.

Business Supplies 699.86 Paper, printer, folders, binders, etc.

Telephone 698.19 Long distance (Vegas, Utah, Arizona)

Misc. 591.96 Fencing, household, rent, thank-yous, etc.
________
6406.70

Not figured into the costs are the average 150 hours a month I do greyhound 'stuff' - driving to pick-up, get back, give out, talk about the dogs; phone calls; mail compiling and sending; rewriting materials; xeroxing; daily care etc.


Thank you again for all your kindness over the past 9 months. Without them, these dogs wouldn't be alive.

Cindy and Wes Hanks, of Las Vegas, relate that Mikey redecorated their kitchen floor with all the garbage from the garbage pail. He left not one inch uncovered.

Ed Brown, of Las Vegas, tells of Bingo's trick of opening the screen door on his own, when someone doesn't do it fast enough for him. He also is a voracious reader of all books, magazines and papers that his people leave lying around. Of course, no one can read them after he's through with them.

Jim Matern, of Sandy, Utah, found Tavern to be a wonderful personal trainer. Every morning between five and six a.m., he'd insist that Jim get up (with yodeling and wet kisses) and walk with him. Jim lost 10 lb. the first month!

Rebecca and John Balistere of Las Vegas went on their honeymoon, and when they got back, their greyhound, Matisse, was so upset with them that she went into a corner, and pouted for two days. What was worse was that she'd taught their other dog, Bailey, how to pout, too. When Matisse is not pouting, she's hopping around like a rabbit or sleeping with her head on their pillow.

Coon Dog, who lives with the Meuir's in Las Vegas, has forced the Meuirs to be extra clean. He's a shredding machine and if he finds a paper product at his level -kleenex (his most favorite), school papers, books, Cheese-Its - he'll shred it!

Commander, living with Catherine Finnegan in Vegas, thinks all the remodeling she's doing is to make a track for him in the house. All the furniture is moved out of the rooms being remodeled and he's turned it into a mini track.

Al found that the third home was the charm, and is now living with the Chidsters in St. George. Al cohabits very nicely with 6 children, chickens, rabbits, pigeons, Clem (a dog), and a cat. Al's favorite time of day is getting his own personal egg from the chicken coop.

Hope all is well with you and yours. You have an open invite to visit my humble abode and meet the Gang. Life is so good! Woof Woof.

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Chapter 12 January/February 1996


Cooking
I wasn't born with the genes necessary to be in a kitchen. I went to a class last night on nutrition from some famous person who's written books, and done talks and has a week long spa thing etc. She went over everything I already know - that complex carbs are what should be 80% of my diet. Fats and protein take up the other 20%. This means giving up cheese and butter and candy and cookies and everything I adore. And adore is the word. For instance, just yesterday I had toffees for breakfast. Caramels for my mid morning snack. Then I made myself an omelet with an olive garlic puree dip I'd made, some cream cheeses and tomato. I also sauteed two English Muffins in butter in the frying pan. I just love toast done that way. For dinner I had cherry licorice - the pull and peel kind. It's really only supposed to be eaten when I travel. When I drive I peel off a long strand with my mouth, and then slowly chew and pull it into my mouth. Keeps me awake.

Then this lady does this class and demonstrates three of her recipes. Aztec Salad - beans, peppers, tomatoes, and a spicy no fat dressing. I loved it. So I bought the recipe book and headed to the store to stock up. I spent more in one trip at the store than I've spent in my two years here. I get home and the beans in the recipe say they need to be baked. They are in a can, and they don't tell you how to bake them. I call a friend. 'How do you bake beans?' 'Claudia, they are already baked if they're in the can.' Duh. Good, I don't have to bake. Then I realize I've forgotten the corn and the coriander. So it's back to the grocery store. Then it's back to the kitchen where everything is laying around, just waiting for me, and the dogs are sniffing everything - especially my hands, cause I'm making a mess.

Computers
I'm working on my computer, and I have background noise on - and it's those incessant talk shows. And they start to invade my consciousness, and suddenly I'm typing a letter to Regis and Kathie Lee cause they're having a Match Makeover contest for Valentine's Day. That's where they make you over and find you a match. So I sent them the Greyhound Gang calendar, highlighting February, where I'm being kissed by Slim and I've asked them to find me a man to kiss in February. - Is there no end to my search? Watch for me on the Howard Stern show next...

Crap
Men-o-pause - yes, There has been a pause of men in my life - so obviously I'm in menopause. I know I should buy a book and find out, but I'm so loath to acknowledge that something called that could be happening to me. Do you think I'm being punished because I had so many wonderful men in my life during my twenties and thirties. Did I have a quota, and if I used it up early - then does that mean I'm high and dry of the rest of my life?

Cuteness
This little puppy Buie. He was running across a highway in December, avoiding an oncoming car, and saw me and the hounds. He dashed over to us, wiggling and oozing puppiness, and jumped right in the car with Beauty and Slim. No one claimed him as theirs, so he quickly became ours. Beauty and Slim wanted nothing to do with him. This little puff ball of black and brown fur, mugging for attention. Then one day he enticed Beauty into play. And they rolled and tumbled and ran over dirt and dust and rocks, pulling and tugging and biting. He tried to leap over sage like Beauty did, his little legs thrusting him only 6 inches off the ground and directly into a bush. But undeterred, he kept going, a puppy daredevil, defying the god that made him a husky shepherd mix. He sleeps under the bed, next to my head and wakes me in the morning with kisses and cuddles. We can't keep him, cause we're the greyhound gang. He needs a home of his own. Another piece of my heart...gone.

I'm exhausted. Physically and emotionally. I've been loving and leaving dogs for 2 weeks now, and my heart needs a rest.

Craziness
And life is trying to creep back to that East Coast style. Of running, running here and there, and not thinking about the why or the where. I've bought the home and it ties me down. How do I balance the need for security with the need to wander? How do I do all the things I want, when I have to make money? And it seems that all I ever do is spend money. I'm losing sight of life, because that life with things like making money and bills and nasty people are piling up. I want to shed my skin and begin a new year again. I resolve to get away once a month, and I resolve to save more greyhound lives and I resolve to be a better person this year than last. I wish someone would come along and take care of me, cause I'm so tired of taking care of myself. Did I just say that? As I get old and gray, will I become known as the greyhound lady? Did I use up all my loves by the time I was 32? Will I get another opportunity to love a man?

Cosmetics
I'm obviously feeling the ravages of age, and a fast approaching birthday. On an early Sunday morning, I found myself in front of the TV mesmerized by an info commercial for cosmetics. I actually sat, watched it and charged my credit card.

For 42 years, I haven't worn make-up, and now I think it'll change my life. Like moving to Kanab wasn't enough?


Ciao
As I sit here working on my computer and the winter wind howls outside, the dogs are all splayed out around me. Snuggled on pillows, on couches, on dog beds spread out throughout the floor and under my feet. I can't imagine a place I'd rather be.

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Chapter 13 April 12, 1996

As I typed that chapter heading, I really thought about whether I should just skip to 14. Hotels don't have a 13th floor, Friday the 13th brings shivers to many, well 13 has really gotten a bad rap. And it's very funny to be starting chapter 13, with the news you all have been waiting for.

First, you need to know that this letter is only going out to my 'girlfriends'. I don't want to censor it, and frankly the men just aren't ready for this. They just wouldn't understand. Except Ron. He's getting a copy.

Everything feels different lately. I'm walking differently. I'm talking differently. I'm even laying around differently. I was just lolling around on a comforter on the lawn, basking in the warm sun rays, with Beauty at my head, and Lucky Don at my feet. The pure sensual pleasure of just soaking and sensing and sighing.

Sighing when he ran his hands through my hair, and every fiber leaped out to his touch. When his lips touched mine, and I felt opened, engulfed, drowned and saved all at once. When I unbuttoned his shirt, and his skin was silk and his nipples were candy. When I released his penis from his pants, and it stretched toward me, begging, insisting to be touched. And I lost myself in the joy and the ecstasy and the fear and the unknown. And it's been so long, and I'm so glad to find I'm still alive.

Yep. I met a guy. And though I did try to orchestrate some of it, in the end it was all him, and it made all the difference.

Ok. The specifics.

I enjoy unique things. And with antiques you can find treasures, one of a kind things. Lately when I'm in Vegas I stop at this antique mart where they have about 50 booths with different vendors. They've gotten to know me there, and my greyhound passion and my search for antiques. One older woman, Sally, who's thinking about adopting a greyhound, brings me over to