oops

Ooops. I never posted photos of the mural. This was two years ago!The mural is in two sections seperated by a gate. So Morgan stiched the image together.

A little news

I think sometimes making facebook announcements about big life events is kind of weird. It just feels so impersonal and unoriginal. Sometimes people may want to spy on you and see what you are up to. But they have no real relationship with you. So you're just out there blasting personal information about yourself that a lot of people don't really care about. But a blog can be good because the people who do care and know you can take a look for themselves if they are interested and find out what is going on in your life. So here is what is going on. We are having a baby boy who is due in about 5 weeks. His name is Orion. He is getting so big and our lovely midwife says he is, "locked and loaded." So come on Orion! The next biggest thing going on in our lives is that we are moving to a different part of New Zealand. We have lived in Wellington for six years and I am completely convinced that it is the most beautiful city in the world. I haven't seen too many of the world's cities, but from what I have seen, it is the loveliest. However, Morgan got a job at a little studio just about an hour north of Auckland in a little town called Snells Beach. And that is exactly what it is, a little town out in the country and on the coast. So far people have warned us that there isn't much to do up there. To me that sounds lovely. Let me tell you what there is to do. There are warm beaches with water that you can surf, snorkel and swim in. There is lots and lots of nature, mild winters, a donkey reserve, and...and... that is about all. Hee hee. We went up there to check it out and I really loved the feel of the place. With islands off the coast and warm, clean beaches, it just felt so peaceful. I am really looking forward to being close to a more hospitable ocean. I do love Wellington. But it can be a very harsh place due to its cold winters, and Antarctic Southerly storms that tear through and knock the wind out of you. So that is our life. We are planning on moving up there around mid April. Goodbye for now.

A Mural is coming.

Morgan's parents, Carol and Stephen are here visiting. Today they helped me clean the wall where my first public mural will be. It is a wall about 14 metres square located along the walkway to the Houghton Valley Community Hall and Playcentre. I have always loved that wall. My grandma had a dream that I painted a mural and told me about it not too long ago. It was as if I was meant to paint this wall. After asking the Progressive Association, Playcentre, and the Council if I could paint the wall, as well as having the paint donated, I was able to begin. Today was the big day. The wall is pretty rough and when we started scrubbing, it was amazing to see how much mould and dirt was caked onto the surface. Now it is light and bright, ready to be primed. I am thinking next Sunday I will see if any other people in the community would like to help with the priming.

Learning from Tobi

This should be my last post about Tobi. I was going to write her whole life story and all the memorable things that she has done. But it's too much writing. And I think I am making peace with losing her. I don't want to keep feeling sad by dragging it on. So I will write a little more about what she symbolized to me, and also a little about her death. As I had mentioned before, divorce has been a very hurtful thing in my life. I can't count all the divorces that have happened in my family on both hands. At the same time, I have always had a strong love and value for family. So when my family fell apart, I became reckless. I was not a partier, but rather a bit of a dare devil, at least for a girl. I think my parents thought I might have gone a little crazy. I know they worried about me, as well as everyone else. I would meet any challenge that arose. I jumped off 50 ft cliffs, surfed 12 foot waves on a longboard (it's only impressive because I wasn't a very good surfer), traveled through Nicaragua by myself and gave away all my money while doing so, traveled to Israel (again with no money), and quit college, vowing to never go back. I guess you could say I was testing God, yelling at him mostly. But I think he liked it actually, because no matter what I was doing I knew I was somehow safe. So when Tobi came along, it was like a big hand came down right in front of me and a loud thundering voice yelled, "stop!" So I did. Through caring for her, I learned how to reconcile and balance sensitivity with bravery. I was a tall, strong, water polo player that could bodyslam any of my brothers at the drop of a hat. But at the same time I was kind, gentle, and sensitive. Growing up I learned to believe that sensitivity was weakness, or contradictory to my more powerful characteristics. But Tobi was both and it was so beautiful. As I got to know her, in many ways I got to know myself. I learned to embrace all of me, rather than what others thought I should be. She also made me responsible. I had to learn how to take care of a very dependent little creature, which meant that I had to learn to take care of myself. So I went back to college and finished my degree. I learned interdependence, instead of independence as a way of life. This softened me up to the idea of marriage. It was so healing to be needed the way that Tobi needed me. I could go on and on about Tobi. But most of all, Tobi represented a promise. That day when I was crying with my good friend Yami, I believe that God heard me. I believe that God gave me Tobi as a promise that one day I would have a little family of my own. As Tobi grew older, she slowed down a great deal. We thought getting a second dog would be good for her. I believe it was, but because Miles was the most hyperactive, obnoxious, and out of control puppy that I have ever met, I think this also made Tobi grow old faster. Then when we moved to a house that had 67 steps leading up to it, and I had a baby, Tobi didn't get out nearly as much. Sometimes I have a lot of regret about how Tobi lived her last couple of years. But at the same time I think that if we did get her out more, she might have over exerted herself and died even sooner. So it was what it was. On Friday, Pearl and I took both dogs down to the park for a bit of a play. Tobi was so happy to be out. She jumped on her little balance board and people laughed and took pictures of her. Then we all began walking down a little hill. When I looked back, Tobi was lying down, breathing slowly and peacefully. I called her but she didn't respond. So I walked over to her. A neighbor came over and we knelt down and pet her. I knew that if her breathing didn't pick up, she wasn't going to make it. About a minute later, she stopped breathing...and she was gone. So it was very tragic, but at the same time beautiful. I felt like God was saying that he had fulfilled his promise to me and now I needed to move forward and embrace it. I have my beautiful little family. Now God wanted his dog back. I put Pearl in the backpack and carried Tobi up the hill. That evening we buried her above the house on a little hill looking out on the ocean. We planted a little succulent garden over her grave. I wanted it to look a little out of place, because thats how Tobi seemed most of the time. We have lived in New Zealand for four years and I have resisted calling it home because it is so far away. But I have known that this home for a long time. And now I really know, because Tobi will never leave this place. So it was good, but sad. I don't think I would have wanted her to go any other way. I just wasn't ready.

Ten Things About Tobi

I wasn't sure what direction I wanted to go with the next little post about Tobi. She was a quirky character, overflowing with personality. I think it's important to understand that she wasn't just any dog. When I write about Tobi, her name could never be replaced by another. Here are ten things about Tobi's personality that made her so special. 1. She has been to four countries and was bilingual. 2. A kitten once decided she was her mother. Even though Tobi never had puppies, she managed to make milk for the little thing. 3. She liked to skateboard. 4. Whenever I took Tobi to a creek, she would put her head under water and bob for rocks. She would then proceed to make a pile out of them.

Tobi at the Creek from Morgan Loomis on Vimeo.

5.If you talked to Tobi like she was a dog, she would sit down and ignore you. But if you talked to her like a person, with respect and in complete sentences, she would do anything for you. 6. She has had multiple operations on her knee, tail, soft pallet, eyeballs, and foot. This is why I do not recommend getting a bulldog (unless you don't have anything else to spend your money on). Morgan has documented all of her operations and health issues at poortobi.blogspot.com 7. Tobi loved the water. But it took her years to learn to swim. The first time she saw a pool, she leaped into it and sunk right to the bottom. I had to rescue her. So we got her a life jacket.

8. She was very gentle and loved all creatures, big and small.

9. Her favorite thing to do was to stand on this springy surf/balance board at the park. In fact that is what she was doing right before she passed away.

10. She once met a bull. At that moment her life had changed forever because she had discovered her purpose. After hundreds of years of breeding bulldogs so that their only purpose is to be amusing, Tobi still knew what to do. She charged the bull and we had to wrestle her to the ground before she was injured or worse.

Sweet Tobi: A Multi Cultural Beauty

My sweet little Tobi passed away yesterday. I don't believe most people understand just how important she was to me, or how unique she was. In fact, people who knew her well agreed that she was much less of a dog and much more of a mythical beast. To express why this loss is so hard and why she was so amazing, I have decided to write her story. My dad and stepmother had just gone through a terrible custody battle, which was very traumatic for everyone. Divorce is something that has scarred our lives deeply. It wasn't this moment that made me feel that I needed to make a change, it was the layers upon layers of divorce that came from every corner of my family's make up. So I went away to Costa Rica for a year. I volunteered with the missionary organization JUCUM (youth with a mission). Meaning to stay for three months, I ended up staying for a year. Being in a place completely foreign to what I was used to allowed me to think through my life, upbringing, beliefs, and identity. It was my walkabout. Even though it was a good time, it was also the most lonely time of my life. Because I spoke very little Spanish, and was not accustomed to the culture, I often felt isolated. A friend whom I had met a few months before coming to Costa Rica decided to come for a visit. But he would be what we should really call a suiter. I didn't like him in that way, and made it very clear. But it was awkward and weird just the same. One day we were downtown and we walked by a petshop. In the window, there were little puppies tumbling around and looking adorable. As we got on the bus I told him I wished I could have a dog. He smiled, got up from his seat and said, "I'll meet you back at the base. Theres something I have to do." That night he returned with a little two month old bulldog puppy sleeping in his shirt like a baby in a hammock. He handed her to me and said, "Here's your dog." I thought for sure the base director wouldn't let me keep her. But he was an animal lover. He just smiled and said nothing. I kept the puppy ... but not the boy. So she was my baby and my little terror from that day forward. In the morning we would go for walks before everyone else was up. Through the brightly colored houses with bars on the windows, and up the windy and rocky roads we would walk, until we got to a little grassy spot. There I would lay down, look up at the clouds and pray. Tobi would rest her little puppy jowls on my cheek and I would tickle her ear with a blade of grass. For nine months we did this, and over time she became my little protector as well as companion. Being a tall, blonde, young woman in Costa Rica made me a magnet for male attention. As Tobi grew older, she looked outward toward the path while I lay in the grass, to see if anyone was coming. You may know Bulldogs are known to noisy breathers, and Tobi was no exception. As I lay there, she would hold her breath for about three seconds and listen for people approaching. Then.....gasp for another breath and hold it again. When men did approach, she sounded the alarm. Even though she was sweet natured, she could also be frightening to a stranger. Not only did she protect me, she also discouraged unwanted social interaction. It was wonderful. When it was time to go back to the U.S. I wasn't sure what to do with Tobi. A nice family had recently come to the base and they seemed to really get along with her. I asked them if they would take her when I went back. I didn't want to leave her and just the thought killed me. It wasn't until my dad said, "well you can't leave your little dog behind" that I even considered a dog traveling by plane. It was such a relief to think that she could chome with me. Before I left Costa Rica, I had a real meltdown. As I cleared out my room and packed my bag, I cried and cried. My good friend Cinthia's mother heard me. She came in and comforted me. I love Cinthia's family. They were always so good to me and accepted me as their own. They were kind to each other, loving and open. They also loved Tobi and cared for her when I went on trips to panama or nicaragua to renew my visa. I told Yami, (Cinthia's mom) that all I wanted was a family of my own, a loving little family like her's. She prayed for me and I hugged Tobi and cried. On the day of my flight, the ticket agent told me that it was too hot for my short nosed dog to fly and I had to wait until Autumn to get her on a plane. My heart hurt so bad to leave her. But there was nothing I could do. The base director's had dogs and they agreed to take her for a while. I flew into LAX and stayed with my aunt for two weeks, just waiting for the my little dog. Every day I called two different airlines and a pet courier, trying to get her to me. Finally the day came. She was to arrive at the cargo area at 10:00pm. When I got there, no one knew anything about a dog. They suggested I waited until midnight when another truck would be unloaded. So I sat in the car for two hours, praying that Tobi would be in the truck. I desperately needed my little dog. But she was not on the truck. I ran around peeking in every warehouse, asking the people working there if they saw a little bulldog. Finally I came to a building where I heard a group excited voices and my lovely little Tobi, hysterically barking like an alien getting his toes stepped on (thats just how bulldogs sound). I took her out of the crate and we ran, skipped and rolled around on the black top kissing and hugging eachother. Never mind that she was covered in her own shit because she had been sitting in her kennel so long. I was just so happy to see her. And she was so happy to see me. As I cleared Tobi through customs, a large, stern, and lovely black man in a military uniform stamped her little doggy passport and said, "welcome home ma'am." It was such a strange thing to say. But I realized it was true, wherever Tobi was, I was home.

Goodbye Joe

Last weekend I said goodbye to my father inlaw Joe Loomis. To be honest I could never write something that would adequately describe what he means to me. But I will try. When I was in high school, Morgan and I started dating. For my 18th Birthday we had a party at the Opera House. Being young, we didn't think about practical things like what we were going to eat, or where we were going to sleep. No one brought food that night. We just wanted to play. Joe looked at me and Morgan and asked, "What are you going to eat?" I said, " I don't know. We'll be alright." An hour later Joe had returned from town with tri-tip steaks and garlic bread for us. He didn't have to do it. We really would have been fine. But he wanted to. When Morgan and I were having a hard time in high school, Morgan decided to go for a walk in the middle of the night. He walked for hours until he finally walked so far that he didn't think he could walk back. So he called his dad to come get him. Joe asked him what was wrong. After Morgan explained a little, all Joe said was, " I thought it was either drugs or a woman." That was all he said. When we told him we were getting married ten years later, he giggled with delight and said, "I thought that was what you were going to say. Wonderful! I loved being married" I remember the first time he told me he loved me. He was standing in the doorway of the house he was building. He was laughing with delight when he said it, I just couldn't believe how happy we made him. He was a great listener and curious about everything. I love historical narratives and he loved history. We went on and on about Columbus, Cortez, and little Lady Barker from the NZ Sheep station. Every time he saw me he brought up a book that he thought I would like. It was a collection of journal entries from women who crossed the United State by wagon train. He never knew what happened to his copy of the book. It most likely got burned up in one the many house fires he lived through. A few days before the memorial I found the book he recommended on my grandma's bookshelf. I guess I am destined to read it. Morgan's mom and dad had an interesting relationship that I never really understood. When my parents divorced, they avoided each other. Even now, they don't talk and only see each other when it is absolutely necessary. Morgan's parents though, were very different. Wherever their kids were, they both were, even after being divorced. They made conversation and never minded each other's presence. They did this for their children. I thought when people got a divorce, that was it. You take these friends, I take these. We don't talk to each other. The kids make all the visitation arrangements, and I no longer care about you... at all. Most people think this way about divorce. Its normal. But Carol and Joe were never normal. When you talk to anyone about their marriage, everyone agrees that they loved each other very much. And even when it was over, their respect and a tinge of love lingered. I believe how they handled their divorce left their children whole. The combination of Carol's abundance of unconditional love, and Joe's unconditional acceptance and respect for individuals made some amazing children. Joe was a man of principle. He believed that things were the way they were and people were the way they were. It wasn't our job to change anyone or anything. It was our job to wonder. He found amusement and pleasure in the simplest things. When he was showing us around his amazing home that he built himself, I made the polite conversational comment that all he needed was a few pictures to hang on the walls. For some reason he thought that was hilarious. The next time we came to visit he had maps, family photos, and art hanging everywhere, all because of me he would say. He never did things to achieve higher financial or social status. He never did things for the sake of completing tasks. He did things for his pleasure and enjoyment. When I think about this I think that his mind was closer to godliness than any of us, as pleasure is the purest motivation to create. Because of Joe, my love for people has become simplified. While some see his refusal to dwell on problems as a fault, I see it as optimism and idealism. For this I can respect him and be eternally grateful for what I have learned from him.