I am still staying with Christian and Zach at First Lady Farms. As I’ve already written, earlier in my stay I set off the security alarm 3 times in 3 days. (I’ve tackled that skill, thank you very much!) I’ve tried to compensate for that stupidity by getting all other rules and practices exactly right. Yesterday I got home before either Zach or Christian (I was dog and chicken sitting only for the weekend). The three dogs greet the first adult home as if the messiah herself has arrived!

One of the rules of this urban farm is to check the back yard to make sure there are none of the 13 chickens out of the chicken yard before you let the dogs out. As part of my orientation, I was told that the dogs would eat any chickens that they found loose in the yard. I have EVERY TIME checked the back yard for loose chickens before I let the raucous dogs out. Since there had never been any chickens out when I checked and the dogs were especially wild last night, I just let them out without checking. Then as I turned the corner from the back door, following the dogs, I saw the yard—LITTERED WITH CHICKENS. And the dogs were running wildly toward them!!

I cannot adequately express the sheer panic that I felt. I mean, the visions that started flashing through my brain were horror-movie worthy. I literally expected to watch the equivalent of the Chainsaw Massacre. I envisioned blood and feathers and squawking and screaming (me the screamer)! The envisioned magnitude of the potential slaughter was incomprehensible in those moments. All of these animals are referred to as the owners’ “babies.” My mind even imagined the devastation and anguish when Zach and Christian returned home to the scene of such carnage. Life seemed to go by in slow motion. I wondered how fast I could pack up my things and travel to another state. I didn’t know how I could face my friends—all because I broke one of the rules, all because the dogs seemed extra feisty that day. I had to do something, but what?!

The dogs, of course, were all peeing. I HAD to get them back into the house. I started immediately calling them to come to me. The smallest boxer came immediately and ran into the house. No time to celebrate yet. I went back to entice the big dogs. They were still peeing…such loo-oo-ong pees. The chickens in the meantime were acting as if their lives were not in grave danger. La-dee-dah! One continued to sit in the planter that the dogs ran past to get to the yard. Others just pecked around in the yard as if doomsday had not just arrived. Meanwhile the second dog finished peeing and I enticed him into the back door as well! Oh.My.God! I was 2/3 of the way to redemption. Please Holy Ones, let this final dog come to me when he finishes peeing. I called, he came. OH! MY! GOD! When I opened the door to let the third one in, the other two pushed past him and ran back out the door.

NOOOOooooooOOOO! Panic replaced the hope that I had started to feel. Time to put on a show! I acted as if the best thing that ever happened to them was waiting IN the house. The feigned excitement in my voice did the trick: the two came back in.

Next I had to herd the chickens back into their own yard. Some went in, some didn’t want to. After I shooed some in and went for others, the first ones came back out. It seriously could have been a scene from a comedy routine. Eventually I had all the chickens ensconced in their chicken yard and the dogs in the house. (I didn’t know that the guys sometimes leave the chickens out during weekdays and this was the first time that I had gotten home before them.)

I hope that I never again feel the horror of thinking I was going to watch such a massacre (and one possibly of my own making). After I calmed down, I had a glass of homemade mead (made from Zach and Christian’s own honey) which is literally on tap in the dining room. See? All’s well that ends well.  Especially when you have a little bit of mead to ease the pain away.

The excitement of this adventure of mine comes into play as I travel from one house to the next with all of the items I need for living in the back of my car. I’ve winnowed my essentials down a lot, but it’s still a bit difficult to lug the few tubs of clothes and electronics and food up and down stairways. The physical transition is the worst part of this plan. But compared to mowing a lawn and raking leaves and cleaning up basement floods and weeding gardens and fixing broken appliances, carrying some tubs every week is nothing.

So, back to traveling to each new house–this is where the adventure of this ridiculous plan of mine comes into play. The last house I stayed in was with close friends as I didn’t have a pet-sitting gig. This couple’s adorable house is meticulously clean and clutter-free. Each item in the house has a place. I made sure I put dirty dishes immediately into the dishwasher. I hung my towel up straight. I loved spending time with them, but I made sure I left no trail.

Again, this journey really allows me to experience how other people live and what they prioritize and how they manage their households. This is true whether the owners are there or not. I’ve always loved learning about people and seeing the world through different sets of eyes. So when I got into my car last Wednesday night, I took note that I felt light…almost free. Maybe like a bird or a wild animal. I was completely on my own, without encumbrances, for those 20 minutes between two completely different existences.

My next arrival at my friends’ downtown house started with a huge bit of excitement. When I rang the doorbell on Wednesday evening at 9:15pm, the three Boxers starting barking and came through some invisible barrier (motion detector?) and set off the house alarm. OOoowah, oooohwah, oooohwah screaming through the neighborhood. I didn’t yet have a key, so I stood helplessly on the front porch. Fortunately, a few minutes later, the owners came home through the back door and were able to turn off the alarm and talk to the tiny person in the box, explaining that the location of the dog cages to the ‘barrier’ needed to be changed. I was saved and no police officers arrived (even though I had done nothing but ring the door bell this time).

While tending to chickens and dogs would seem kinda easy…it might be for people with memories. But for me there are just a lot of details to remember so I came two days early to learn all the rules and household and animal routines. I always write the instructions down. It’s 3pm on Saturday and every one of the animals is still as raucous as ever. Rooster Jack is still crowing, the First Lady chickens are still clucking and the sugar-sweet dogs are still humping. (There are also three bee hives, but there are no duties there except to eat the tasty honey in the kitchen!) So far, so good.

I have not been as lucky with the alarm system, however. I set it off the very next time I came through the door coming home from work on Thursday. Sigh. OOowah, ooowah, ooowah. So embarrassing. This time I had to tell the woman in the box that I was a doofus so that she didn’t send the police. (This house is downtown and the system does provide some peace of mind.) When Zach came home later that evening, he shared that he had gotten to watch me on video (from his phone) frantically pushing buttons to make the alarm stop howling while he was at the Mayor’s Forum. Sigh. SO embarrassing.

This morning, (remember this is only Saturday) I’m the only adult here. Within 5 minutes of getting out of bed, I set the alarm off AGAIN. Zach and Christian forgot to tell me (!!!!) that the alarm at the FRONT door has to be disarmed before I can let the dogs out the BACK door. Ooowah, ooowah, ooowah. Yes, woman in the box, we have already confirmed that I am the doofus who keeps setting off the alarm. This time I turned around and waved at Zach while he is in San Francisco receiving a national award. I’m now afraid to leave the house–from the front door OR the back door.

So many people tell me that they could never do what I am doing. I ask you, does this not sound fun? Switching realities on a dime? Adjusting to new environments with a 20-minute driving break in between? Learning new household rules every few days? Ok, after writing those last few sentences, I see what you mean: It doesn’t sound like fun. But I assure you, I am having a blast! Jyoti’s Great Adventure continues!!

Violence, revenge, death, comfort, family. On this cloudy Sunday morning, sitting on the back porch listening to the strum of the loud cicadas and the whistle of the State Fair Train, today is a day of introspection and reflection. Violence, revenge, death, comfort, family. These are the mental and emotional topics that swirl around me, that overtake me at a moment’s notice. Lately, I’ve been wondering if something is wrong with me because I am so comfortable in my new lifestyle of nomadism. My lack of a home, leaving my home and beloved gardens, really seems to be just a very minor blip on the radar.  I am enjoying my time in each new home and with each new pet and in each new neighborhood.

When almost everyone around me tells me that they could never do what I am doing, I’ve been wondering why this is OK—even fun—for me. Those answers are still gelling in my mind. This week, my comfort level was tested with a horrid family tragedy. In the face of tragedy, would I long for MY couch, MY home, MY back porch? Would familiarity help lessen the shock of a violent end to a family member’s life?

I spend much of my life teaching students and parents that violence and revenge is clearly not the best way to solve conflict. But I often feel like my efforts are like swimming upstream. So much of our culture teaches that revenge is the value of choice when we’ve been wronged. Even countries teach that “we have a right to defend ourselves” when what they are actually saying is that if someone hurts us, we have a right to hurt them back. That is not self-defense: that is revenge. However…revenge never ends. Everyone just waits for the next strike. But, again…swimming upstream. Ugh.

My brother’s 18-year-old grandson (my great nephew) was shot and killed in his home in the middle of the night this week. From all appearances, it looks like it was plain and simple revenge, although we don’t know many of the details yet. But what we do know is that another young life, on the cusp of adulthood, is extinguished because much of our society teaches that payback is important. So many believe that guns should be readily accessible to all who want them. An excessive number of guns and the strong belief in the value of revenge lead to our country’s extremely high homicide rate. This fact has always caused me great pain, but today—the day I will see a family member in a casket—this fact makes me literally sick to my stomach. Sigh.

How does living in someone else’s house affect my pain? Not at all. Pain is pain, happiness is happiness. I am finding more and more that my surroundings don’t affect my inner life as much as I would have expected. I am able to house relatives from the West Coast who came in to be with their family members—just as I would have done in my own house. Nothing has really changed. My family is still my family. Life goes on when I’m happy. Life goes on when I’m sad. Where my body happens to sit doesn’t seem to affect any experience very much. And it seems like that’s a good thing?

As the locusts chatter and the blue jays scream from the trees that surround the deck, this moment seems to be all that matters. I woke up in ‘my’ 5,000 sq. ft. home in my beautifully decorated bedroom suite on this sunny, Saturday, August day with nothing on my calendar. And by nothing, I mean NOTHING. No lawn to mow, no errands to run, no friends to visit, no events to accept or turn down. I mean…this is a foreign feeling. I still can’t say that I like the feeling, but I’ve decided that I’m going to try to luxuriate in it because this is where I am at the moment.

Terry’s mother was particularly anxious that Terry and I might not get along because Terry (whose name has been changed to protect her identity) is a little persnickety. Terry is a Pit Bull who is loved deeply by her Mama.

I will admit that I had a tad bit of anxiety as I am aware of the media-driven hype behind the reputation of Pit Bulls.  However I am also aware of the extreme devotion of families to their Pit Bull pets.  So I was excited to become friends with my first Pit Bull buddy.  When I went for my initial visit to the house, I stayed for two hours so that Terry could get to know me well and I could get a sense of the household routines.

As is usually the case, Terry and I bonded quickly.  At night, if she doesn’t sleep ON the bed with me, she jumps up as soon as I wake up.  These are a few of this morning’s pictures that I texted to Mama to put her mind at ease.

I think we get along just fine, Mother!

It’s been 15 days since I drove away from my house. I’m going to my fourth pet sitting gig tomorrow. We’ve been back to work for 4 days—the students arrive on Monday. Today a friend asked me how it feels to leave work and not be going home to my own house. That doesn’t bother me at all. Somehow when I drove away, I really drove away. I was ready to move on to the next stage.

I was asked to fill out a form today listing my hobbies. Hobbies? OMG—I’ve left all of my hobbies! No more gardens, no more flowers, no more bouquet making! No more sitting on my back porch during rain storms. No more neighbors to wave to as they drive or walk by. I had to pause. Is that all OK with me? I decided yes, it was. However, my table mates had to prompt me for other “hobbies.” Do you like to read? Yes. Do you like to walk? Yes. Do you like traveling to California to see your family? Yes. Are these hobbies? Well, not really, but they do take up some time.

I’ve spent the last 5 days in wooded acreage on Eagle Creek Reservoir. It’s been absolutely perfect. My pretend reason to be here was taking care of these three little doggies who needed cared for while their family vacationed. I found out that the real reason I was here was to provide for me a smooth transition back to real life. The house where I raised my daughters for 26 years wasn’t as hard to leave as the gardens that I designed from ground up. In the end it wasn’t hard to leave them either…as I was really just ready to move on to the next phase of my life, leaving behind the beloved, quiet solitude of the neighborhood.

This marvelous place has this fantastic koi pond and waterfall right outside ‘my’ door. I’ve heard owls and pileated woodpeckers. I soaked in the hot tub and ate dinner on the secluded patio as the setting sun turned the clouds pink above the tall trees. I kayaked on the reservoir with a dear friend today. I enjoyed my canine (and feline) companions and shared my bed with two or three of them each night.  I’ve had a minute to exhale, enjoy nature at its finest and get ready to go to my next house tomorrow. On Tuesday, I return to work as a School Social Worker with Indianapolis Public Schools, working in an elementary school. It’s been quite a 6-week summer break for me. If I had to write an essay, it would be all about transitions.  I’ve had a few lately.  

My first 24 hours as a nomad have been perfunctory and silly and amazing. When I drove away from the closing, I did not feel anything different: not happy, not sad, not excited, not determined. I was just ready for some Thai food. As I analyzed it, I guessed that the journey had been so long and painful that the climax wasn’t as important as the journey itself.

I ordered and picked up some Thai food.

When I got to my first doggie’s house, which was just a weekend stay at a friend’s house, I immediately found my Achilles heel. I hadn’t come over first to get all the instructions, but just relied on verbal and written instructions. I immediately realized that decision had been a mistake as I couldn’t access the internet or turn on the TV (remotes were all too complicated). When I texted the owner the password she had provided for me, she saw that she had written it one period wrong. So I finally got onto the internet.  [I mean…I couldn’t live my first adventurous weekend without the internet!!]

During my first night, I had exactly one foot to sleep on in the bed, as Roxie slept horizontally on the rest of the bed–which I was fine with!  The next day, I visited my upcoming #3 gig doggie’s house and learned her nuances and quirks (I think we will get along just fine!).  I had lots of errands to run, tying up many loose ends and I found myself one block from my former home before I realized what I had done–mindlessly driving back ‘home’.  At exactly 24 hours after I left my home for the last time yesterday, I got an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion: I literally felt like I was melting into the car seat. When I got ‘home’ I slept for two solid hours on the couch.  It seemed like something inside my body or psyche had to reset. I awoke refreshed and ready to roll.  

I figured out how to get onto Netflix with the Wii system (STANDING OVATION PLEASE!) and watched Grace and Frankie while catching up with news on the internet. [I never did get to watch any television for the weekend.]  When I set my sandwich down to go back into the kitchen for something, Roxie helped herself to the top half. First dog-sitting lesson learned. HA.  

And now I’m outside watching the most fascinating sunset and awesome lightening storm. And then this spectacular double rainbow appeared with some lightening bolts meandering through it. I’m going to take all of this as a sign that there will be some tumultuous times, but that I’ve made the right decisions and this nomadic life will bring me the adventures and the challenges that I hope for. Time will reveal that to us all.  

            It all fits!!  Here I go on to my next phase of life.  I am officially a nomad.