The Dust


After a solid night’s rest, in which I did not wake up once, (this is practically a miracle and that I chalk up to daily physical exhaustion and a nightcap (literally, a bottle cap) full of Evan Williams) I’m resuming those thoughts I’d intended to share before somnolence slammed the door on my desire to impart.

First, one of the very first caveats to paradise that I repeatedly warned mi amor, Chelsea, about, whenever I came here to clean up and prep for our big move has proved a daily ordeal: the onslaught of dust.

Granted, you (have to) get used to it pretty quickly, but it is everywhere: on the new floors, the sills, the countertops, dashboards and in our nostrils, ears and eyes.

Albeit, I feel the healthiest I’ve ever been in the last half of my life so far, I can’t help but think that I’m going to die earlier-than-planned of some disease caused by continually inhaling dust.

Nonetheless and allthemore, the silver lining is that I’ve got a name for our next animal-cum-pet: Dusty.

Actually, I’ve got a few names lined up: Rusty, Juarez and Zapata. But apparently, even on the precipice of Father’s Day, I must heed that pet naming is a democratic decision in our family, which all five kids and six grandparents get to weigh in on. So, I’m hoping that maybe at least the Donkey we intend to get, will get one of these kick-ass names.

Anyway and anyhoo, perhaps my good night’s rest also was a consequence of feeling that finally there was a semblance of order here at our new home, our homestead-in-the-making.

Chelsea and I worked together to get heavy furniture moved about; I put a bed skirt on my bed, so containers of fall and winter clothes could be conveniently tucked below and out of sight; decades of electronics infrastructure and conduits were neatly labeled and sorted into bins; the ladies of the coop spent their very first night in their coop last night; Olivia Luz, Milodeus and I spent a couple of hours organizing their drawers and rooms; and this morning, I faux-yoga-stretched for five minutes before the glory of our Mountain View, whilst trying to prevent Barker & Zeus from chewing up all the blankets and pillows we’ve yet to put away.

So, after all that, it kind of feels like we’re truly home now. Yes, much more is to be done, but we’ve got each other, it feels like it rains here practically every other day despite the gloom and doom of drought all about us, and I woke up to a well-lit room that reminded me that the sun is shining and I’m alive and well. It’s hard not to be invigorated by all this.

And to add to this basic foundation-of-motivation, we’ve also got our aspirations to spur us forward here at Hacienda Dominguez & Chelenzo Farms. Mi compadre, Rayner, shared a great video series with me this morning, which may have to be this first Friday Night Family Film we project this evening to inaugurate our renewed home theater. As I’ve mentioned previously, we haven’t watched television, cable or streaming-anything for over five weeks, so I’m eager to set up the projector with the fire stick and resume our educational foray through instructional videos and documentaries.

Here’s the one I’m hoping we’ll watch tonight, which explains and justifies and empowers why we’re doing what we’re doing:

SWALES: A three-part video series from The Weedy Garden