Lost Mugs, A Baby on a Rock &

Airbnb-ing my place in Santa Fe is a constant challenge, wear and tear on the home... fear that folks will put diapers down the toilet, or bring a dog without me knowing. I let a dog stay once, and they peed on the bed... it was my first time renting, and the folks staying were friends of friends. I say they because there were two small dogs. And I know they peed because my dog, Maisie, jumped on the bed, sniffed, and peed the second we arrived after the double dog visit. Maisie did this another time, when I visited a couple who had a Griff (the same breed as Maisie). We were going to a dog meetup, Maisie came into the house, zeroed past the hosts, and peed on their dog’s bed within seconds. It is hard to explain that she only does that if there is pee previously. And, of course, how do I know that is true? Maisie was not a peeing-in-the-house dog, gosh, pet owners sound ridiculous sometimes, most times. I had a thick bedspread, and nothing got through to the mattress, but there was thereafter a no-dogs rule and a lot of laundry.

I like having people there for the most part, I keep the rate cheap, so families or two couples can enjoy Santa Fe. You sometimes get pictures of broken mugs and plates... people say, "I am so sorry, may I pay," and others say, "This broke," and most say nothing if something breaks. Two of my favorite white mugs have disappeared, someone liked them as much as I did, but that is my problem for leaving them for guests. Maybe folks thought of them as souvenirs. I leave notes around the house that I make with Dymo labels. The one in the bathroom says, "Do not panic, you are not locked in, turn the knob the other direction." I open the Airbnb messages from guests with a little apprehension, this one came in this week: "My mom stood on a chair and it broke," wow... my first reaction was, is she okay (mom was in her eighties)? She was. I never go into why are you standing on chairs? This was a whole chair. Was she jumping up and down?

Once I was on a walk in a middle-class neighborhood, and the front lawn of a small home was covered in goats and sheep, and there was a large truck and a woman on a horse. The horse was clip-clopping and backing up, not rearing, but the cowgirl-like woman on horseback and the sheep and goats smooshed into the front yard made me gravitate towards what was going on. The owner of the home was out front, and I asked her about the animals. She does it every few years, and they clear the weeds and brush. She swore by the cowgirl on the horse, and I asked the cowgirl for her card, I had never done that while someone was on horseback. The horse not being still added drama.

Like many places, there is a danger of fire.

I tacked her card onto the bulletin board. A few years later I called her, left a message, and emailed her. She wrote back via email, asked for our address, and I booked it. She guaranteed 80 goats and sheep. I asked questions like, will they eat goat heads? Will they eat tumbleweed? They arrived right on time in the driveway, a big farm truck full of animals. Her husband, who called himself the farmer, was much older than she was. They also brought a toddler and a three-month-old baby, and a lot of portable electric fence. It seemed like a lot, I immediately offered to bring the toddler some art supplies. She was very wild, barefoot, sure of herself, and everywhere all at once. Climbing trees, writing using a rock as a surface with the paper and markers I had brought out, and, in the meantime, the sheep and goats were starting to strip the land. I made small talk with the horse woman and asked the standard baby questions and the standard sheep and goat questions. I would point at an animal and say, that is my favorite goat, and she would quietly say, sheep, and the same for the sheep word... I would say, omg, that is the most beautiful sheep, and she would say, goat. This went on until I started to ask their names instead. I would fill the water bowl and walk amongst them, saying their names, hi Elmer, hi Joseph. Now that I have watched endless goats ramming into people on Instagram, I am surprised that didn't happen. It would have pleased the horse woman, or at least made her smirk…

And the baby, it was either tucked under her arm or in the shade under a tree on a rock, sleeping outside the electric fence but near her sister, who was a puppy or a lightning bug, she was everywhere. Her feet must be like hooves, she never winced, only scampered. I do not remember where dad was, or them eating, but afterwards her brother came, and his wife, and they all sat on this ledge in the yard and chatted. This made me feel accepted, they had a six-pack and enjoyed the end of the day. I finally left them alone and felt flattered, I got to tip them for the extra time, for the work, for the farm, for the unlike-anyone-I-knew-ness of it.

Ok, till another time that you drop in & here is more,

Darc