If I was...

I would have screwed this up already

If I was younger.

Was still a drinker.

Had hormone replacement.

Had a partner.

Knew how to optimize my brain or use nootropics.

Had a bag of money.

I would have left already. Maybe?

Turns out, my voice of reason, which I am starting to regard as the nebbish inner critic that we all have but because of wine, estrogen and sex have ignored for decades. I have chased dreams and drama and ignored her better judgement. Oh, that could be a disaster. Don’t do that.

But can’t I just?

No you cannot just crash the border and spend too much on a van rental and run up to Missouri in the winter and live in a commercial building with these dogs. There is no shower and you are not going to enjoy hosing off in the creamery room for a bird bath. You will have no furniture and the fencing is partial. Hundreds of acres of crops nearby and likely cows and you don’t need to introduce yourself to your new charming small town as the nut with all the dogs from Mexico. So sorry, a few got out and bit some heifers. I’ll pass.

Can I put a shower and fencing in?

If you buy it you can turn it into a brothel, but renting, no. They just want warm bodies in there so no one steals the pipes and buildings don’t thrive when vacant. But they’re not interested in my labor of love dog rehab shelter and diner.

If I was younger, a little crazier, less wary of cartels and car accidents, felt trusting, had a clear eyeball on a vehicle, was a little more manic and a little less depressive, I’d just go and figure it out. Can it really be any less comfortable than what I’ve gone through already?

Um, sadly. Yes.

I’ve tried vanlife, and the park an RV out here and figure out waste water later is a fool’s errand. A 29 year old fool’s errand. Or a 49 year old’s with a home to return to because this is just an adventure. Oh look! A chance to use my Jackery! I’ve done all that. It’s all fun until you get flipped into a ditch and you realize you sold everything. I don’t care how well you did at the closing table, you can’t live inside of your bank. And it’s harder than you think to find something. And if you think you’ll just rent for a minute and look around, think again. Rentals are disgusting, overpriced and not pet friendly. If you’re a grown up who hasn’t shared a wall in a home for 25 years you’ll be appalled.

So anyway, say what I do about this pueblo and my dusty casita we’re somewhere and there is a fence. A wall actually with a gate. And I thank that wall every time I open the door and the dogs run out. The dogs I’d likely not be allowed to have if I was in the USA. Even at $3000.

So I’m glad for my inner Mom-a-logue. You think you’re cranky here just wait until you’re trying to feed, walk, exercise, contain and keep clean all of these pups and yourself. I laugh at the ridiculousness.

So no, we’re not going to live in the Creamery. Read about it here where I was delusionally packing my bags after one day of thought and then the next day of thought where I said, um, you can’t live there, stupid.

And here we are. But that’s okay. It’s 72 degrees and if you have to cool your jets for a winter, Sonoran Desert is the place to be.

Well it’s A place to be. Let’s not get carried away.

linktr.ee/lolasdogrescue for more info on the Rescue