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I am UmberDove.

And by that, I mean an artist.  One who hears stories in the wind, who paints because it is what her soul tells her to do, who smiths because the muse moves through her fingertips, who loves nothing more than the promise of an unexplored trail, the sound of the ocean in her ears, and scent of a serious cup of coffee.


Traveling 2400 Miles in Five Days


We started here,
With stout cups of coffee and a sack of clementines.

Behind the Redwoods
wind turbines

South through the redwoods, their shaggy trunks leaning in close to hear Raising Sand (Alison Krauss played by yours truly and Robert Plant sung by BC) pouring through our windows.
South through the farm lands, blanketed in cashmere and guarded by the red-tailed hawks, stopping only to demonstrate absurd yoga poses at random small town gas stations.
South through the rolling hills marked by wind turbines and soaked with the valley heat, peeling off layers and giving in to spontaneous car-dance parties.
Then North, north higher than the flight patterns of migrating cranes, noses in books, two cranberry juices hold the peanuts please.
To these feet.
Which belong to some of my very favorite people on God's golden-crimson-chartreuse-ean earth.

Strolling through the Fallen
The Magic Friend Maker
In Redness

And here it is: I DO miss Seattle, but more over I miss my Mme.  Life feels a little fuller now that I've walked the layout of her home, now that I know where to find the microplaner in the kitchen, now that I've stolen her face wash while showering (heehee), now that we've purchased yet another set of matching accessories (thigh-high leg warmers make the world go 'round).
I basked in her Candaceness (totally a word) so much that believe it or not, these are the ONLY photos I took the whole weekend.  I had to just be.  Really BE.  Present.  To take those images and engrave them on my secret heart, take the moments of utter communion and moments of hysterical laughter and clutch them tightly so they last longer.  To be a little greedy.  I'm not sorry.  Not in the least.

But the weekend passed and we struck out to the softly frosted mountains of California to pick up this little beastie.

My Sancho
Sancho 2

Sancho is HOME!
He's puddin' pie and a little tank already, nine weeks old and eating like a horse.  A ten pound carnivorous horse with floppy jowls, a wiggle worm of a tail, massive paws and a face like rumplestein.

I love him
So big.

And for the record, the kitty boys are handling the situation as well as we could have hoped: Thai is the pure embodiment of Calm-Assertive (a la Cesar Milan - audio books equal 9 hours of hearing the phrase "calm-assertive") with his unflappable presence and air that says "I'm not moving but if you step one foot closer and I will bitch-slap you" while Sing is more of the Wild Card (a la It's Always Sunny) and Sancho has already decided that's far scarier.  Oh this family of mine!

All this to say, I'm so ready to be home.  I'll be heading in tomorrow morning (Friday November 19th) for Chemo Infusion Round 7 of 8 - can you believe it's almost over?  Just one more after this, and while on one hand I feel like I've been in chemo for a lifetime, on the other I remember when it felt like I had an impossible journey ahead of myself.  Thank God for friends along the way, eh? 

And on that note, I think it's time for a puppy potty break.