Oklahoma Dreaming: Feeeeeelings, Woh, Woh, Woh, Feeeeelings

by Donna Schoenkopf

last time: gallstones & weather

I am sad.

I am sitting in the Shawnee, Oklahoma library, using their computer because I still have not moved in.

But that is not why I am sad. I am sad because my beautiful friend, Susan, has died.

Here is what happened.

Susan came to live with me when my son, Jesse, died. She said she needed to be needed.

So she came to my house and stayed three years.

She liked white wine and cigarettes, which eventually killed her, and, like my mother who also liked her "libations" and her cigarettes, did not like people telling her what to do.

She took great care of my son, John, and me. She put all our ducks in a row, had dinner waiting when I got home from work, made me mad and made me laugh, sat in a hundred-year-old oak tree to save its life from the housing developer, had passionate love affairs, giving up everything for the men she loved, became a communist because she was open-minded and believed my rants, said that everybody got a million chances, lived a life of generosity, hilarity and adages to live by.

Here are a few pointers from Susan.

Replace "but" with "and," as in "I like it, BUT ..." changed to "I like it, AND ..."

Don't say, "I HAVE to ...". Say, "I GET to ..."

"Everyone gets a million chances."

"Manners are important."

Then her liver and her lungs had partied long enough. She became very ill and was taken from her enchanted cabin on Orcas Island to Bellingham.

She lay in the hospital, hooked up to tubes and tracheal equipment and was in and out of consciousness. When she was conscious, she told her kids she'd give it a week and then would make her decision about what she wanted. After a week she took her own tubes out, said, "Give me liberty or give me death!" to which her beautiful daughter replied, "Mom, I can't believe you just said that," and died a few hours later, very peacefully.

Goodbye, my sweet (and irascible) Susan.

I have a touch of sadness about moving into my house, which will be this Sunday, January 6th. I couldn't figure out why I was sad until I realized that the more real my living here in Oklahoma becomes, the more real my loss of California becomes. And California means my children being close, my dear sisterfriends being close, my teaching, my sweet little house in San Pedro, the familiarity of L.A. All of it gets farther away the closer I get to living in the house I've built.

So ... where do I stand at this moment?

I have only $5300 left to finish up everything because I had to cut back on my house building money. No matter how nicely I put my ducks in a row, the universe surprised me with extra taxes so now I am $10,000 lighter in the wallet.

Consequently, I am trimming my sails a bit and have eliminated the shade trellis for the western part of the house, the chicken coop and the carport. And, very sadly, the beat up pickup truck I wanted to haul stuff in. Like hay for my chicken coop.

So what is left to do, you ask?

Screw all the plates on the outlets and on/off switches.

Get the land (or should I say red clay mud?) pushed around so that it drains properly AWAY from the house and down the hill.

Put gravel around the base of the house and complete a parking area with gravel.

Install my heating and air conditioning unit and put in duct work, which will run, silvery and undisguised, down the length of the house, through the white, newly painted trusses. Very cool looking.

Connect my toilet, showers, and kitchen and bathroom sinks to my water line.

Find the leak in the water pipe. (It's leaking half a gallon a day and Peewee will not REST until he finds it. He thinks it's in the turnoff valve, but can't get to it until it's dryer out there. There is a swamp of red mud everywhere. It sticks like glue to everything.)

Sweep and scrub all the clay dirt off my beautiful concrete floor.

Get rid of the junk that's accumulated in the house.

Throw scrap drywall into the pond. Peewee says it turns the water crystal clear. It's made of gypsum, which comes from the earth, and doesn't hurt anything in the pond. Also it prevents leaks the way bentonite does. He says he once did a cleanup job for free just to get the drywall to throw into his pond. Which is the size of Arkansas. Or just about.

Move in. This Sunday. January 6th. My heart just skipped a beat when I wrote that.

On January 7th, my landline for my phone and DSL will be installed. (I can't get cell phone reception at Chigger Lake.)

On January 7th I am also getting my DISH satellite installed. Teevee is my friend.

I asked Peewee to work around me. I just GOTTA get out of that duplex. As long as I have a roof over my head, I'm good. Even if the toilet isn't in, I can always travel out to that great lady's room in the woods. The house is fabulously warm, just from the winter sun coming in through my southfacing sliding glass doors.

IT IS GORGEOUS THERE.

That feels better.

Feeeeeeeeeeelings, woh, woh, woh, feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelings.

next time: Fidel