Zephyr

Poor Zephyr. He hasn't gotten a lot of press lately. All the limelight's gone over to Trooper, the woeful, little furry deaf rescue. It's like competing with Tiny Tim. It ain't going to happen.

Still, Zephyr is my #1 guy. He's mostly my rock, my REAL dog--we still aren't completely certain Trooper is a dog--but Zephyr is all dog, all 60 lbs of him. Sleek, lean with a fabulous gate, even nearing 13 years old. He's a roguishly handsome older man.

Sometimes, Zephyr has bouts of what the vets like to call dogie Alzheimer moments--or maybe it was me who called it that. Basically, he gets anxious, a little confused, hyperventilates and paces. I've been putting him in his red fleece coat when this happens, a cheaper version of the Thunder Shirt. It works a bit, but walking always helps. So we took a big-dog only walk. We both needed it.

To my number one love--well, besides Shadow, but that's another story I couldn't handle any of this high falutin Trooper business without you.

d, xo

Scout and Rescue

If you haven't been around--or if I haven't been advertising enough--most likely the later, I have a second shop now, Scout and Rescue, vintage home decor, kitchenware, garden paraphinella. It's mostly a great excuse for me to buy a different variety of vintage--I do love kitchenware--that doesn't really blend in well with the cute shoes and flowy scarves at Dahlila Found. So, check it out!



Meanwhile, who are the couple in the photo, you're asking? These two very, very young cuties are my parents, years before they had me, years before they were even married. Age: 15-16, I think.

I ADORE this photo, so it's my shop picture. Because, in the grand scheme of things, my family, all of us, together or separately, our motto could easily be: scout and/or rescue. ;-)

p.s. Dad loved to fly fish. Motto: eat what you catch or release them back to the river. Yay, dad.

d, xo

Lost Dog, Found Dog: 3 Weeks In

I have a dog...another dog, a second dog. I have TWO DOGS.

Sometimes, I still can't believe he is a dog, but it's been three weeks and so much has happened since that very dark, cold night on December 6th. If you haven't heard, while out walking Zephyr, I found this animal scurrying down a leafy gutter.

I took this photo (above) the day after I found "the lost dog" states the .jpg title on this photo. He was headed for the pound--says me. Uh-huh, sure.

This is "the little guy" (above) one week later...

I was just "fostering him" and (below) keeping up with Zephyr through the leaves. Zephyr's been a great sport about this fostering business, because it's not forever, right?

And two weeks later...coming back from mom's in the foothills, stopping to get apple pie and take a walk in the orchard at Machados, my favorite road stop.

Going for broke in the orchard. The little guy was getting healthier and a lot faster. Now, dad calls him Zippy, but I still haven't found a name.

And by week two and a half, I was the only one who wasn't clear where little guy was living for good. Below, showing off his "night-walking jacket". Seriously, I wish it glowed and had blinkers.

This is the dog the vet dubbed "aggressive and unadoptable" making quick friends with a big shepherd at the dog park. We later learn little guy is completely deaf.

Zephyr, bless his patient heart, has put up with little guy even when he wants to run and hide from him.

Eventually, I gave in.

Zephyr is giving in.

Even my parents, friends and neighbors have given in. ;-)

And what an adventure one turn of the night has taken us: Little guy has been to FOUR vets, has been medicated, diagnosed, poked, prodded, washed more times in three weeks than Zephyr has in the last year. He's visited two pet stores, has two coats, rides in the jeep, in the basket, out of the basket, in my arms. He's been in Starbucks--and kicked out of Starbucks (nicely) and has been warmly welcomed in by family at Christmas, even when he peed on the floor, a few times.

Week three...23 days later, this is our family.

And, although we have tried out dozens of names--Possum, Scout, Rusty, RuDolpho, Ugg--what my step-father calls him, Zippy--what my dad calls him, Gutter--what the guy at the SPCA named him,  Butterscotch, Domino, my nieces great finds, I have FINALLY come up with a name that is sticky: Trooper.

Trooper is what my dad called me when I was a kid, if I helped stack the wood, shovel the deck, kept up on a hike. It's what little guy does every day to keep up with Zephyr.

I will continue to call him little guy, but now, instead of "lost dog" on the vet papers, it will state clearly, Trooper.

d, xo

Found: Booby-Trap!

I spotted the old board game box box amongst a plethora of jigsaw puzzles at the thrift store, an original Booby-Trap game by Parker Brother, 1965. I gasped & nabbed it with that exhilaration reserved for great finds like Famolare wedge heels, Spirographs, a pink Samsonite train case. :-) I slipped it into my cart with a hint of glee on my face & went on my way.

As with everything, I thought it would be a great piece for the shop. Who didn't love Booby-Trap? But EBay is surprisingly covered with them and I'm a bit relieved, because now I can keep it.

I grew up in the mountains, snowbound all winter. We kids thrilled to be outdoors, building snow forts, sledding down deadly inclines, and precariously hanging from the the second story deck rail and falling into snowbanks, but eventually we'd get cold and spend the day indoors playing board games: Clue, Masterpiece, Monopoly, Yahtzee, Battleship, Life, Stratego, Booby-trap.

I don't know where the game came from, as it was toted as a bar game, not a kid game, but we had one and I loved to play. SNAP, went the trap, as you eased the wood pieces out of their tight squeeze. It was a vintage version of Jenga or pick-up sticks, it required skill, patience and a long winter.

I think I'll take this up to my parents house and teach my niece to play. We'll make popcorn and sit around the table with the family who still loves to play board games. :-)

d xo

Happy Cupcake Day (or, coffee simbiosis)

I have a very simbiotic relationship with my neighborhood cafe/restaurant. I keep their enormous bowl shaped planters filled with herbs and flowers, and in return they keep me filled with coffee.

Working at home, the cafe is my daily walking destination with Zephyr. It's my social escape, my water cooler for gossip. If anyone is looking for me the cafe is usually the first place they look.

This relationship also works well for my baking habit. I like to bake, and even they, in a restaurant, like to eat. So, this year for Valentine's Day I made cup cakes slathered in cream cheese and Cointreau frosting dolloped with pink, red, lavendar M&Ms, which, since I waited to the very last possible minute to buy, were crazy hard to find.

I got a grand entrance, "Happy Valentine's Day" all around and the cupcakes were gone in less than 5 minutes. Still, it was fun. Who else would I bake this many cupcakes for? Plus, I'm thinking in the spring it will buy me bonus points as I want to add another one of their restaurants to my gardening list. I drink a LOT of coffee. ;-)

California Family Retro

This is one of my favorite photos. Right now it's my shop banner, because to me it is quintissentially Califorina vintage. This is not some random photo either. This is my mother, left and my aunt sunning on the back of the family boat, circa 1950s. Grandma is surely stearing while grandpa--always with a camera--shot this photo. They were both avid water skiers. Love aunt G's scarf and glasses. So fabulous.

I scoured the cabin searching for these water skis, but I'm afraid they are long gone. I wanted to hang one above this photo in my living room. :-) Family history makes great art. 

dahlila xxoo 

Small Joys

I keep watching the news and it's so disheartening. Jobs, homes, budget cuts. And just yesterday I found one of my favorite used books stores has up and disappeared. When a university town can't support a good used bookstore, it's just sad.
I'm trying to be courageous, have faith, keep stepping forward, but sometimes it's difficult. Everyday I reach for small moments of joy or beauty or sweetness. And sometimes I can string them together and call it a beautiful day. I hope you can too.

Take care. Have faith. Keep your loved ones close. Appreciate the small joys. Amen.

Rescuing the Family Jewels

My mother called. She was up to her elbows in the sacred moth balled closet that protects the family heirlooms--hat boxes, satin coverlets, a plethora of cocktail jewelry--Monet, Trifari, Marvella--kid gloves, evening wear, Vera, pearls, and a 1970s, hand tailored, virgin wool men's suit, from Hollywood, with the pimpiest lining a straight man ever wore.

She sounded nearly in tears.

I want it all gone! she cried. She had obviously been attacked by Spring Cleaning Fever, a deadly virus, when one more necklace, lace hat, cocktail dress, unworn stilettos, were going to break down her closet and her nerves. I know this feeling. I have it at least once a week. I pleaded, "Just hold on! I'll drive up today." I dropped everything, grabbed the Vintage Bible, my camera, the dog and headed out.

Luckily, my step-father coaxed my mother away and took her to lunch. A wise maneuver. When all is overwhelming, walk away from it all, is a my favorite motto--at least for coffee, cake, or a shot of Jack Daniels, if necessary.

Upon arrival, "The Albertson Ladies"--present and past, in body and spirit, strewn the closet content onto the carpet, played dress-up, strolled down memory lane and told stories of my great-grandmother, nanny, granny and a gaggle of eccentric aunties who had left this all behind. It was terribly fun. My mother looked much calmer. A weight had been lifted and she--and her closet--could breath once more.

The next day, I took away a car load of goods, all--I promised--to be sold in my shop. (You know I will keep some pieces, but only in the name of "I love it; I want it," and not for "familial obligation." I swear--(repeat this mantra as need be.)
Now, it is all in my little home. And please, don't tell, but I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed now too. Though, please don't worry! I have a plan--organize, photograph, edit, price, post. It's just going to take some time. There is only one of me.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have so much to do and a fabulous estate sale to attend. It's crazy, I know, but it's all part of my job. ;-)

P.S. If you see anything that makes your heart flutter, please let me know. A fabulous follower like yourself, deserves first dibs. ;-)