Blog

Salud, friends!

Well, things aren’t getting any slower around here. In fact, with an early apparition of winter, we seem to be entering warp-speed. Luckily, I’ve mostly been able to keep up.

This past Wednesday, September 9th, we got about half a foot of ground cover of the most perfectly fluffy snow. According to the National Weather Service, the earliest snowfall on record in Taos was September 28th, 1936! Most everything was melted by the time we went to town the next day, but the snow stuck around for a good 48 hours in Tres Piedras. The newest addition to our Goat House clan, Daisy the Rhodesian mix rescue dog, was having a time for herself romping through the drifts; the goat boys weren’t as ecstatic! John and David don’t mind the snow, but they hadn’t prepared their winter coats yet, so it was a bit chilly for them.

With the reminder that winter is not far off, Monday’s acquisition of the lumber for the goat barn was well-timed. Two weeks ago we had a cement truck in and poured the concrete for the foundation. Then my neighbor Ed, who is helping with the construction of the barn, loaned us his 20’ trailer for the 2-hour round-trip to the nearest Lowe’s, in Espanola. I walked away with a hefty bill — about double what supplies would have run in normal times. The guys helping us load up the lumber said that OSB had jumped from ~$7 a sheet, to $12, to $20, and finally to the whopping ~$26 per sheet I paid. Ed suggested that I could return the supply load and wait for prices to drop, but we really need to get the goats out of the atrium room in the cabin before winter! The extra space could serve so many much-needed uses: a place for a combination desk/dining space, greenhouse for more plants and fresh herbs, and a crate space for Daisy to sleep at night. 

Another stroke of luck befell us when Ed and Paul, the lovely gentleman I’ve been seeing, got called out from work on Tuesday. They are building a house for a woman in Tres Piedras, and she thought the weather was too wet and windy to raise trusses. Free for the day, Ed proposed that he and Paul take one of his work trucks out to the mountain to chop firewood for our wood stoves! At the end of their adventure, Ed generously insisted that we keep the entire cord they had cut, because he wanted to help us get our start on the winter. No one had been around to help him start out up here, he said. 

Then Tuesday night, the snow began to fall, and we fired up the little propane heater for the first time this “winter” (although we now have wood, the chimney remains yet to be cleaned!). It was quite a reprieve to have two snow days to ourselves, smack at the beginning of September. We got fully into the swing of things, lounging in the living room in warm hoodies, reading our various books (mine: “The Muses,” gifted to me by our new friends David and Mark of El Prado; Paul’s: Harry Potter, 5th and 6th books, for around the 5th or 6th time..), snuggling the dog, and sipping dark hot chocolate with oat milk creamer. I showed Paul North by Northwest, which was a success! 

The snow has all melted now, even in TP, and I’m back to wearing tank tops and sandals — but the fresh chill of the fall air has fully arrived. This afternoon, driving into Taos at 75 degrees out, I wished I’d put on socks with my Birkenstocks. 

There’s plenty more to update on, but for now, it feels like a good time for a hike with the Daisy dookie.

See ya’ll next time,

T

Hey fam,

It’s mid-mfckin August!!!! Fall is almost upon us.. It’s still hot during the day, but the evenings have been foreshadowing the upcoming journey to winter.

I can’t believe the summer is almost over. And not in the way where I can’t believe it because I don’t want it to be true, but more so in the way that I can’t believe I survived it all!

Between selling the home in Washington, purchasing the cabin in Tres Piedras, all the packing and selling and throwing away it took to get out of Spokane, the harrowing road trip to physically transport the remainder of my life multiple states away, and the immediate launch into necessary projects around the new Goat Outpost — all whilst trying to orient myself and my things into a much smaller living space — has left me feeling extremely overwhelmed.

Around the cabin, I have been experiencing some disillusionment with my progress in organizing my space, decorating, my significant lack of handyman skills or handyman, and the general disarray that has come with having many balls in the air at once.

The goat barn build has finally started, and until finished, the goats have been and will continue to be living in the atrium room of the cabin at night. The atrium currently has only a dirt floor, and I crate the boys at night to contain their bodily functions and general destruction; nevertheless, having goats indoors has certainly not helped to foster an overall feeling of order in our new life.

In this vein, I’ve received some external feedback that I’ve been a bit hard on my home: a reflection of myself.  With several visiting parties, observation holds that I have consistently pointed out: 1. The Mess; 2. What projects still need to be done (a lot); and 3. The things I don’t like about the cabin/property that I want to change. It has been suggested that I might benefit from taking more of a gratitude-based approach to the current status of my home and life. Although this was hard to hear, I couldn’t agree more. So now, I have the blessing of adding this psycho-spiritual work to the to-do list!

In all seriousness, I couldn’t be more thankful to have people in my life who can perceive and respond to my inherent tendency to look at everything through a critical lens. Yes, I like to envision what could be better: for me, this is both a liberating and a creative act. At the same time, I understand how this could translate as a lack of gratitude, and that focusing on improvements really can be a total distraction from appreciating what is good in the present moment.

I also have to acknowledge that much of my self-critique comes from a feeling of external necessity. Understanding how my lack of steady and socially-conforming employment might cause some to perceive me as lazy, spoiled, etc., I fear the judgements of others. I am therefore quick to criticize myself and my various (unpaid yet still quite intensive) labor harshly, before anyone else can. At least if I recognize my own lack of achievement, I can’t be caught off-guard by a snide remark or an unfavorable review.

So in making disparaging remarks about my home, I’ve been told, I am looking for assurances from others. And valuing myself and my work is not the responsibility of others; it is primarily the responsibility of myself.

Therefore, I thought it might be nice to compile a list of all the things I’ve achieved this summer, in one place. I’m hoping this will help me recognize the worth of my own efforts — and, of course, dispel rumors that I am sitting around in hammocks smoking weed all day every day (I do this of course, but truthfully in fair moderation).

So, here’s the rundown of what I’ve tackled in the ~3 months since I closed on and arrived at The Little Goat Outpost in Tres Piedras:

• Unloaded + unpacked all belongings
• Completed construction of 5-ft tall, roughly 600 sq. ft outdoor enclosure for the goat boys
• Completed tree trimming + mulching of 1.25 acre lot
• Completed interior staining + trimming on cabin
• Contracted with local woodworker for fall kitchen renovation project
• Ordered new kitchen window
• Completed total interior repaint
• Removed or replaced all ugly light fixtures
• Hung about ½ the art
• Created workable makeshift sleep space for goats in sun room
• Fixed gutters
• Organized shed
• Sold Scamp camper trailer
• Designed barn build plan and contracted with neighbor to complete project
• Installed new rain shower head
• Purchased sandstone + completed outdoor patio
• Applied for an internet quote for the cabin (!)
• Started cooking regularly and learning to make new meals
• Started writing a children’s book
• Completed design and creation of new brand assets for Tres Piedras Social Club, and finally,
• Secured an upcoming, paid, and extremely flexible j-o-b!

Unfortunately, capitalism doesn’t validate the psycho-social-spiritual endeavors as valuable work. But everything we do takes energy, and expending energy is work!

With this perspective in mind, some of the most important labor I’ve done this summer has involved hosting ~20 personal guests at my new property, meeting and befriending a majority of my neighbors, and exploring the Tres Piedras/Taos County/Carson National Forest areas: including hiking peaks, driving forest roads, visiting undeveloped hot springs, capturing photographs, visiting sand dunes, mountain biking, camping out, and showing friends around.

I receive so much positive feedback on my ability to nurture and grow relationships, and I believe that this is truly my gift! Sometimes, I think that it would be nice if I could receive monetary compensation for this: because putting people up in your home, making them feel physically and emotionally comfortable and safe, and taking them on epic adventures, can be a lot of work! But the dearth of deep, loyal, and mutually empowering relationships I have cultivated is far more valuable to me than money. I am just thankful that I am privileged with this luxury.

To all ya’ll out there who are hard on yourselves — be nice! You deserve it!

Til next time,

T

Hey friends,

Today, I’d like to tell ya’ll about life in Tres Piedras. In my last post, I mentioned how I’d never heard of this place until March of this year, when I found my little cabin on Zillow. I visited once, did some light internet research on the area, and then decided I’d move here!

Last week, one of my best friends from home (Providence, RI) came by for a quick visit. Dave and his partner Elizabeth were on a road trip from San Francisco to Ithaca, NY, and I was happy to welcome them to my new abode for a night of Thai taco-eating and banjo-playing. The last time I saw Dave was last summer in Spokane, when we threw a bachelor backpacking adventure for Dave’s brother Zach in West Glacier. So, Dave saw the OG Little Goat House, and all the work I’d put into it.

When Dave arrived in Tres Piedras, we reminisced about how just a few months earlier, after I’d viewed the cabin for the first and only time, I had sent a video tour of it to our group chat (entitled “Meatballs,” alluding to our group’s matching meatball tattoos). “Guys, should I sell my house in Spokane, and move to this tiny cabin in rural Northern New Mexico?!” I’d queried. The meatballs are a cabin-oriented group; they are also quite familiar with my disposition toward spontaneity (which some call: “impulsivity”). Support was voiced for cabin life.

And now here I am. Dave and Elizabeth were awed by the beauty of the region, which neither of them had explored before. They hadn’t expected it to be so mountainous, they said. Similarly, my visitors were impressed by the truly remote location of my new home.

Since I moved here, a lot of people in my life have wondered aloud: “What do you do there?” So I’ll tell you. My life here is very simple. I wake up, sometimes I make breakfast, and I spend time with the kitties. I let the goats out, and have morning coffee on the front stoop (site of future front deck) while admiring the Sangre de Cristos. Some days, I go on drives or hikes around the area. I take photos, work on my own writing, and, sans internet, my reading life has become quite active again. Often, I visit the coffeeshop in Taos for digital connectivity. I could go down the street to the Chili Line Depot, just a 5-minute jaunt from the cabin — but the drive from Tres P to Taos is magic. So away to Elevation I go, and the 45 minutes is always worth it, even if I were headed nowhere. I am also, finally, learning to cook!

Everything out here is slower. It’s the Land of Enchantment, but it’s also the “Land of Manana.” The relaxed pace is giving me time to enjoy and create small works of art that are really just part of living. For 2 years in Spokane, I made coffee with a Keurig. About 2 weeks into life here in TP, the Keurig broke, and I’ve been making French press ever since. In Spokane, I often went over to my mom’s for nourishment, due to my lack of dexterity in the kitchen. Now, I practice making meals until I can wow friends with my surprisingly edible concoctions — something I’ve never before achieved! In Spokane, while apartment living, I vowed never again to reside in a home without a dishwasher. Well, the cabin doesn’t have it. In fact, even when I remodel the kitchen, it will remain without a dishwasher, because there simply isn’t room for one. But I take simple pleasure in scrubbing the dishes after each meal, placing them in the small drying rack, and eventually returning them to their homes. There’s something cathartic about the whole procedure.

I caught up with another friend recently via Zoom, whom I originally connected with in Spokane. Another fish out of water in that city, Deva, too, has since blown that clambake! She’s back in her home state of Indiana, and while video chatting she remarked that I looked very happy. I said something about how great it is to be here, apart from society, and how nice I find it to be without internet… except, of course, when I need to get things done!

Then, I told Deva that it’s 31 miles to the nearest gas station. If she hadn’t already been lying in bed, I think my friend would’ve fallen over. “31 miles??!!!” She exclaimed. “Girl. Girl. 31 miles to the nearest gas station,” she went on, “that’s like… that’s like, you have to use a tank of gas…just to get gas…31 miles..” I was nearly in tears. Yes, I’m a girl with goats living in a cabin 31 miles from the nearest gas station. I joked, “Clearly, I’m white.”

So what else is there to know, about Tres Piedras? And Taos County?

Well, so many things. First, there’s the fact that almost no businesses accept anything other than cash in this whole county. If they do accept cards, they let you know about it with a hefty surcharge. If they accept checks, don’t try to slip a Bank of America one by them. “We accept local checks only,” the owner of a thrift store explained to me yesterday. “It’s a good check,” I said. “And your license is from Washington??” she raised eyebrows and looked at me sternly. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just go down the street to the ATM?” In my brain I thought, What kind of question is that, I’m here now with a good check, no I would not rather.

Eventually, the thrift store lady took my check, but not without first having her employee write my driver’s license number down on the check with a note that it was a Washington ID, and telling me: “I really hope I don’t have to come find you.”

Then, there’s the TP-specific experiences. My cabin is technically in the “Highland Estates subdivision” in Tres Piedras, which if you’ve never lived in a rural place, is probably making you think of big sterile developments along city outskirts, with identical homes and evenly spaced trees.

A “subdivision” here, however, looks more like this: random huts; Earthship-style homes; abandoned build attempts; boarded-up double-wides, still with satellite dishes dangling off the vinyl siding; meth-houses with 10-ft tall perimeter fences; endless dogs guarding yards and dirt driveways that would be impassable anyway; many lots with 10 or 20 vehicles, some boats, dilapidated campers, sitting outside the front windows; horses parked next to llamas parked next to miniature horses in worn-in pens and corrals and barbed wire; and 2 steers in a neighbor’s backyard, in a little fenced area, next to their carport. Another neighbor started building his home in the middle of a county road, my realtor said, and then petitioned the county to let him keep it there. They acquiesced.

So, my first experience with anyone in “Highland Estates”, a few days after I’d arrived.. I was driving in my truck with my mom on the passenger side, down Forest Road 222. We spotted an older gentleman tending his land near the road and, eager to make an acquaintance in the immediate area, we nodded and waved in a friendly manner. When the man motioned for us to pull off to the side for a hello, we obliged. As we approached, I noted his appearance: blue jeans, shirt tucked, big cowboy hat… and a beard that was loosely sectioned into three unruly dreadlocks that reached from his chiny-chin-chin allll the way down to his belly button. I was nearly speechless at the mere sight of the majestic dread-beard, a grooming choice I’d never quite realized existed. Then, the man began speaking with us.

At first, conversation was much what one might expect in a rural town from an elderly White cowboy: talk of the country going to hell in a handbasket peppered with un-requested accounts of personal magnanimity and accomplishments; all without much pause for reciprocal banter.

But then, there was the account of the quintuple homicide. I’m certain our dread-bearded friend didn’t use the word quintuple — in fact, I’d be very surprised to hear anyone express the numeric value of the 2017 homicidal event in such terms (I had to do a bit of fishing myself to land on the descriptive word for five). Regardless, this first man we met, during our first week, proceeded to illuminate us to a colorful odyssey of local murder that we had nary anticipated. My mother’s face went from indulgent to concerned to horrified as I continued nodding and affirming to the man that I was listening to every minute detail he deigned to expound about the crimes over the course of a good thirty minutes.

My poor mom eventually went from horrified to weary, and kept giving me eyes that said, Any day now and you can tell this man we need to go and we can be on our way already… I have difficulty, however, interrupting the stories of the ancient (or anyone’s stories, for that matter), unless there is a good opportunity to do so. This requires a few-seconds-long pause in monologue from the person speaking; the old man did not grant us this favor. I looked back at my mom as though to say: Okay, you go ahead and butt in and tell him we’re leaving, then!

Eventually, though I cannot recall how, we did manage to pull away. The old man kept saying that the perpetrator of the quintuple homicide had done it all just because he wanted to borrow his step-dad’s fancy black truck. I looked down and patted the steering wheel of my black 2016 Silverado, wondering if the man had been trying to send me a not-so-subtle message? His first words were, after all, “Too many damn people moving here — no offense.”

There’s much, much more to say about life in TP, but perhaps for another day. It’s late and this is long, already. Life in TP, PT II, coming soon.

Well… it’s been a long time since my last post, New Years — 7 months, to be exact! It seems I’m not very good at keeping up a blog, but here’s to trying again!

The world has shifted quite a bit since 2020 began, and The Little Goat House, with it. In case you hadn’t heard, we’ve significantly relocated our operations! On May 15th, we closed on the sale of The Little Goat House in Spokane, and then on May 20th, we closed on and arrived at our new property in rural Tres Piedras, New Mexico.

Here’s how it all transpired…

During the months of February and March (and originally planned through April), I decided to take an extended hiatus from Spokane with the Petunafish in tow. We gathered our service-animal letter from my therapist, secured month-to-month accommodations in Santa Fe, and booked a one-way Southwest flight. This freed up The Little Goat House for full-time rental availability — and it freed us up from the dreary Spokane winter! We left the goat boys in the charge of our good friends and neighbors, Randi and Josh, who also managed the in-person goat house operations during our absence.

My time in Santa Fe was one of reflection and growth. I had begun to fully comprehend the futility of staying on in Spokane, and at the same time, I did not know how to proceed. I owned a home and two goats, I had a fledgling business, and I wanted out, definitively and as soon as possible. I also had to come to grips with some of my control issues, while managing my business remotely, which required me to entrust the details to persons other than myself. I quickly realized how exhausted I had been, overseeing every little thing at The Little Goat House with my OCD perfectionism.

With a slow winter season, funds were dwindling, but the spring was looking up. Our booked revenue in home rentals and goat hikes for the month of March was a record high for our business.

And then…Covid hit.

A couple of our early March reservations stuck, but by mid-month, Airbnb had made the comprehensive decision to override all existing host cancellation policies and to refund all guests for their travel plans. With one fell swoop, 100% of our income instantly evaporated into thin air. It seemed untenable to stay on for another paid month of sabbatical in Santa Fe when I wouldn’t be bringing in any income at the goat house. So I readjusted my travel dates, and booked a return flight to Spokane for March 31st.

All the while I’d been in Santa Fe, I’d been scouring property listings in the area. Back in January, there had been a beautiful listing sitting Northwest of Santa Fe in Santa Cruz, New Mexico. With several outbuildings and plenty of room for goats, I’d originally hoped to get back to Santa Fe in time to view the property, and perhaps to make an offer. However, by my arrival on February 2nd, the Santa Cruz listing was under contract. My mom hadn’t liked it anyway (as the financier of my private loan, her opinions carry some weight), and it was pretty extravagant for my budget, at an asking price of $225,000.

Sometimes I get something in my mind and find it hard to shake: for example, that I had missed out on this dream home and would never forgive myself nor find a better fit. Nevertheless, I hit Zillow with even more fervor, desperate to find another listing so spectacular that it could make me forget all about the Santa Cruz property.

I had my search filters set, and an idea of just what I wanted. A bigger place, within 30 minutes of downtown Santa Fe, with plenty of room for separate guest quarters for my Airbnb. I looked and looked. Santa Fe is an absurdly pricey market. There are beautiful old adobes — nothing habitable under $400k. And then the outskirts of town: still, shacks for $200,000. Everything needing work. My mom did not want to increase her original loan amount, which was $180,000; the task seemed hopeless.

And then, around mid-March, I took the filters off. I erased the boundary I’d drawn around the area of Santa Fe County. I just needed to know if there was anything in the entire state of New Mexico that I could afford, that was in a semi-desirable location and in moderately livable condition, that I wouldn’t absolutely hate.

A few days before I was scheduled to fly back to Spokane, a tiny wood cabin popped up in my Zillow listings. It was in Tres Piedras, New Mexico — a place I’d never heard of with a population of around 500. It was a 660 sq. ft. domicile — roughly ~1,000 sq. ft. less living space than I had at The Little Goat House (not counting the shop, which was another ~1,000+ sq. ft. of covered space), and it had no outbuildings or casita. It was an hour and a half from Santa Fe, and forty-five minutes from Taos. But it was cute… and it was priced at $159,000.

I started doing math. I didn’t know how long I’d be without income, but the educated people in my circles said not to take this lightly. Covid-19 could be here, wreaking havoc, for an indeterminable amount of time.

I popped the cabin listing over to my mom and dad on email. My dad was in town, so we discussed in person, and he agreed to come check it out with me. We scheduled the earliest available showing with the listing agent for March 30th — the day before I had to fly back to Spokane. My mother emailed me back a laundry list of things she didn’t care for, and advised me to “forget about it” because this did not look like a property she would be interested in backing. And then I went to see it.

The day I saw my new home, the weather was clear and sunny and warm in Santa Fe. I got in my dad’s Ford Fusion and we caravanned (at this point, we were taking all precautions, including not being in enclosed spaces together) Northbound towards Tres Piedras. To get there, you go up from Santa Fe through Espanola, and then take 285 N for about an hour. You pass by Ojo Caliente 30 minutes South of Tres P (as I call it — though the locals call it “TP”), and then finish the drive on a long stretch of undeveloped high desert road. In the course of the drive it changed from sun, to rain, to hail, to snow. By the time we got to the cabin, it was clear again.

On that drive, before setting foot on the property, I thought: “I am going to love this place. I am going to live here.”

Then, we arrived. The listing agent had told us to meet him at the intersection of 285 N and “Forest Road 222,” which is maintained by the Forest Service as part of the Carson National Forest. The address for the cabin itself is not recognized by Google — though it is the real legal address — so Google Maps won’t give you what you need in terms of directions. We followed the realtor first down a well-graded, flat dirt road; then, we turned onto a bumpy, pot-holed side-street that led up to the driveway of #24.

I loved the cabin at first sight. I got out of the car, and turned from looking at the front door of the home to stand in awe of the 180 degree unobstructed vista of the Sangre de Cristo mountains from the front of the property. I could see only one other home from the driveway (though it is not visible from anywhere inside the cabin); the pretty adobe belonging to my now neighbors and friends, Ed and Mel. Across the way at their home, I saw several outbuildings, a cement mixer, and I heard a wood saw running. On the other side of the home sat a cluster of magnificent mid-sized boulders, that looked as though they were begging for some miniature goats to climb on them.

Once inside the cabin, my mind was officially made up. I was home! The cabin’s layout was so sensible, and it had everything I needed. A small kitchen; a nice living space with a wood stove; a bedroom with two good-sized closets; a small hall with laundry area leading to the bathroom with deep soaking tub; gorgeous high ceilings; real wood floors and siding; and a completely enclosed Southeast facing “sun-room” built from salvaged windows, that would provide a source of passive solar heating in the winter. The front door is a salvage from the Hotel Edelweiss — a historic Taos Ski Valley resort that has been renovated into million dollar condos. Even the accent color of the front doors and the sunroom window trim was the same tone, in a darker shade, as the color of the Spokane goat house.

At the end of the tour, I went back to Santa Fe, and called my mother. She wouldn’t consider it. We had a brief text battle and I asked her why her first inclination was always to say no to any idea I had. I was confident that with time, sound reasoning, and the support of other trusted advisors, I could bring my mom around. And soon enough, I did.

The next day, before my evening flight out of Albuquerque, I took a sunny walk to the end of the dirt road I’d been living on in Santa Fe to collect my mail. I brought my phone with me, thinking to myself that this would be the time to call my realtor in Spokane. I had met Rust Brown through Rick Flann, the Keller Williams agent who originally helped me and my mom purchase The Little Goat House. Rust had come out in the fall to see the goat house and to meet with me, my mom, and my mom’s partner, to discuss a potential future sale. I had requested that Rust check back with me in the Spring, as I wanted to hold the property for a minimum of two years, to avoid inflated taxation associated with an earlier sale.

As I walked along thinking about calling Rust, my phone started ringing in my hand — it was Rust! I had not spoken to him or heard from him in any form since the Fall. I answered the phone, and he asked me if I might want to list my home on the market now… “It’s a great time to sell!” he said. I explained the exceptional timing, and we made plans to get together for a coffee in Spokane the next day to discuss.

A week after my arrival back in Spokane, my home was listed on the market. Three days later, on the day before my 31st birthday, The Little Goat House went under contract for $21,000 over our list price. About 6 weeks after that, we closed on the sale of The Little Goat House.

In the meantime, insanity abounded while trying to concurrently negotiate and coordinate the purchase of our little cabin in Tres Piedras, now referred to as “The Little Goat Outpost.” This is already a long post, so I won’t expound on the intricacies and mishaps involved in this process (maybe in another, future post!). The end result is the most important point: I was able to purchase the Tres Piedras property for an excellent price, and with a closing date of May 20th — just five days after our closing on the sale of The Little Goat House. From there, just a simple ~1,500 mile road trip with 2 goats, a cat, a Scamp trailer, and a Uhaul stood in our way! That’s another whole story for another time, but for now, at least you know where to find us!!!! We hope to see you all in Tres Piedras, New Mexico, soon!

Thanks for sticking with us, and we hope you’re staying safe: physically, mentally, emotionally, financially, and otherwise.

<3 Tanya, David, John, Petunia, + Dulcinea (most recent 6-mo old kitten addition!)

Good morning from The Little Goat House!

We woke up to snow, which is my personal favorite weather. We’ll see if the goats concur. They’ve had their first taste of snow back in October, but today we’ve got full coverage…can’t wait to take them out for a hike later! (Photo below is from first October snow hike, taken by Emma!).

The holidays are upon us, and we have our Christmas lights up. There’s no tree this year, as space in the main room is limited. Plus, I’ll be traveling. Next Wednesday we have a sweet repeat guest coming to stay with us in the loft, then we’ll all be checking out, and leaving the goat house to renters who will be here for both Christmas and New Years!

I’ll be celebrating Christmas in Santa Fe this year, continuing a well-loved tradition. Papa Savas, his dog Murphy, and the Little Van Goat (pictured below) have already made it back to Albuquerque, and have our valiant steed awaiting my arrival. The steed is my dad’s Ford Fusion, which he opted to keep when he sold his house in Albuquerque and moved to full-time van life in his Coachmen Crossfit. Before this transition, he’d been working at Avis-Budget, checking rental cars in and out at the Sunport Albuquerque airport. Luckily, this gave Papa Savas an in to permanently store his vehicle for our traveling convenience in the airport parking lot for free!

Prior to Christmas, I’ll be headed down to little known Truth or Consequences — named after a 50’s radio quiz show — for a mini 2-day personal retreat. I booked a brand new airbnb listing in a consistent vintage, ’55 Spartan Imperial Mansion RV! I’ll be enjoying the hot springs on site and at fan-favorite, the Riverbend Hot Springs, which runs alongside the Rio Grande.

On Christmas day, we’ll be cooking up a feast at my dear friend Jack’s apartment in the Santa Fe Railyard, with his two fine felines, Pippy (pictured below) and Pluto, in attendance. My friend Debbie is also planning to drive down from Durango to join us for our dinner. 

Ski Santa Fe has a 40” base, and we have lots of downhill and cross country epicness in store. Mostly, I can’t wait to eat empanadas and drink hot toddies in Totemoff’s mountainside bar, followed by a soak at Japanese Spa, 10,000 Waves. And of course, shopping at the Double Take, where my magnificent Baphomet door handle was procured last summer during my Earthship Internship with the Earthship Biotecture (if you don’t know what an Earthship is, we can talk more about this later). And finally, most importantly, consuming the consummate “egg croissant” at Clafoutis.

Is it strange that a $5.95 sandwich still holds my captivation after a full decade?! Not when it has green chile on it. The price may have gone up by about a dollar since I was in undergrad at St. John’s College Santa Fe, but the egg croissant is still the deal of the century. 

After the Christmas festivities, my friend Emma will be flying out from New Jersey for the New Year. We’ll be staying in an awesome airbnb in Abiquiu, and enjoying the hot springs at Ojo Caliente. We may spend some of New Year’s Eve on the Santa Fe Plaza, listening to my friend Alex Maryol sling some acoustic tunes. I’m sure this will also be peppered with plenty of tarot readings for the new year. I fly back to Spokane on the 1st, which is the same day my guests will check out. My mom and I plan to write out our affirmations for the coming years on the 2nd. 

I hope you’ve enjoyed this meandering itinerary of my life for the next few weeks, complete with unintentional abbreviated New Mexico tourism guide, and I wish you all a fantastic holiday season! If you haven’t yet, feel free to email or direct message us your mailing address, and we’ll send you a Christmas card with code for a 15% discount on your next booked stay or experience at The Little Goat House. Or, if you’re a local business, a discount on mobile goats for your next event!

Stay warm,

Tanya, Petunia, John, David, + Shop Cat