As the temperature continued its overnight slide toward morning, we stayed safely tucked beneath the covers. Outside, an aggressive overhead light that never seems to shut off beamed down right behind our motorhome. I suggested that we just pretend it was the moon, but while Kasey's usually the unflappable one, by daybreak even he had the window covered.
Tad wanted out at "Oh Dark Thirty," as usual. Since I was already awake, I took him out for a quick pit stop; emphasis on quick, since it was still dark and cold. A few hours later, right around dawn, he was asking for round two. The air probably hadn't warmed up yet, but as I stood there, I grinned, remembering my heated vest. I tossed it on, clicked the battery, and instant warmth flooded through my back and torso. I bought it for exactly these moments.
Once Tad took care of business, we returned to the motorhome where I lit the burner under the coffee pot and crawled back into bed, hopping out again a few minutes later to shut it off after it had percolated. My blankets must have kept me a little too warm, because by the time I actually got around to pouring the coffee, it was barely lukewarm.
After breakfast, we sat outside and soaked up the sun until we got too warm opting to peel off a few layers.
Eventually, we both settled into our computer work; Kasey drafting his blog posts while I dove into tasks for Umpqua Watersheds. Kasey’s blog writing tends toward nostalgic, family-focused, and deeply philosophical themes, drawing from a reservoir of old memories; his posts are naturally optimistic and entertaining. Mine, driven by an urgent concern for the environment, take a darker turn.
So many foundational environmental safeguards are being quietly dismantled, and the pace only seems to pick up as the midterms draw closer. Protections I thought were secure are wiped away with the stroke of a pen, no public discussion, no national debate. A lifelong passion for protecting wildlife feels reduced to one person's callous disregard for the living world around us. My sense of despair over it can be overwhelming. Kasey prefers not to dwell on it because it’s depressing, but for me, putting it into words and documenting it feels essential. Even if no one reads these entries but us, at least a record exists of how it felt to live through this moment in our democracy.
Reading Kasey’s reflections on family makes me think of my own. I so appreciate the ones that get it. (You know who you are.) I wonder how some of the more conservative ones view what's happening. They might not share my specific passions, but we all have a stake in things that affect the common good. I don't have children in childcare, for instance, or need to go to college, but I fully support making it affordable because I understand its value to society. Above all, we can't sustain any of these systems without a healthy planet; environmental quality isn't an elective issue.
Bedrock laws that took decades of scientific work to craft are being undone in minutes. That isn't how a healthy democracy functions. So I spend hours filing public comments and encouraging others to do the same: to engage, to vote, to participate. If it motivates even one person, the effort is worth it. It’s exhausting, but exhaustion is part of the strategy. Our country isn't a corporation, and running it like one ignores the immense ecological and environmental costs that businesses routinely write off.
My advocacy work was paused when Lynn dropped by for a quick visit before returning to care for her husband, Randy. For so many people, daily survival takes every ounce of energy they have; playing watchdog over the federal government simply can't be a priority. People deserve to trust that their government is acting in their best interest, not plundering public resources while they try to get by.
In the end, it’s good that Kasey can focus his energy on the nuances of human relationships, just as it’s good that I can keep my eye on the broader policy landscape. The contrast works for us.
Later, Lynn called to ask if we could run into town to pick up a prescription for her. Tad was so thrilled by the prospect of a ride that he looked ready to take the wheel himself. The moment the vehicle door opened, he bounded inside, eager for the trip.
After finishing the errand, we stopped by the local dog park. Within seconds of arriving, Kasey managed to drop his phone face-down on the ground, earning his very first cracked screen after four years of ownership. Not a bad run—it had taken me less than a month to do the exact same thing to mine.
Tad had a great time running around, though he had the park entirely to himself. We stepped in as playmates, trying to coach him in the fine art of high-jumping.
We returned to our motorhome and delivered the prescriptions to Lynn and began to think of dinner. With our propane running a bit low, we chose a dinner menu that would let us heat the rig and cook at the same time: blackened salmon and rice, paired with a Pokegama Porter for Kasey and a peach cider for me.
Tad was delighted to find the salmon skins mixed into his dish. Afterwards, we settled in for a few games of cribbage. Kasey is a sharp player and I’m still mastering it, but he’s a patient teacher. Every game tonight was competitive right down to the wire.
We finished off the evening with Mexican chocolate cookies for dessert. All in all, a good day.
