I haven’t decided exactly how I’m going to write about the sanctuary.  You have to understand, for me to tell you about it is like talking about my family and my work all rolled into one.  It’s difficult to describe such a unique experience with the right amount of details and also keep privacy – both for the sanctuary and myself.
 
With that…
 
I got there around 7:45am.  First thing I tried to do was install my thumb drive on the volunteer computer so I can transfer a database and work on it at home.  (Why yes, I have taken on a few more responsibilities.)  It didn’t work.  The computer is too old to have the right drivers.  This means I am now a week behind in the schedule in my mind unless I come out some weeknight.  We’ll see.
 
GM wasn’t quite sure what to do with me.  He couldn’t just send me off on my own, for policy and procedure’s sake.  When he handed out assignments, he made sure to explain to the other LL volunteer paired with me that I was experienced.  GM actually did that with anyone all day, and last weekend as well.  It’s incredibly gratifying to know I’m appreciated and respected for the knowledge and responsibility I had prior.
 
And then?  I cleaned. 
 
I picked up old meat.  Scrubbed concrete slab “dinner plates”.  Cleaned and refilled water bowls.  Scrapped feces to the edge of cages and picked it up with BBQ tongs.
 
It was heaven.
 
We were done cleaning our section around 11am.  We went back up front to grab some water at the Volunteer area before heading back out to double check another section.  (Check each cage that no one missed a feeding area, and quick perimeter sweep for feces either missed or lovingly deposited after cleaning.)
 
But when I told GM I was either 1) out of there at noon or 2) willing to stay and back up an 11:30 tour, he chose the tour.
 
(Backing up a tour means that I keep the guests all corralled between the guide and me.  I watch that they don’t wander off and that they don’t lean/point over barricades so the guide can concentrate on talking.)
 
After the tour, there was a mad rush in the parking lot.  The road and exit only accommodate one lane of traffic, and the 11:30 tour guests were not all gone as tons of 1:30 tour guests were arriving.
 
(Note:  Never come on a 1:30 tour.  You will not see that many animals and they will be sleeping.  Even the diurnal ones are mostly napping because it is so hot.)
 
So I ended up sticking around until about 2, helping direct parking and just keeping my own departure from fucking up the situation.  GM tried to sweet talk me into staying to help with some specialized tour duties – things that any LL volunteer should be jumping up and down to do – but I hadn’t ordered/brought lunch and needed to get back home with time to clean up and rest before dinner and Dame Edna with M.
 
He called me a wuss.  Heh.  Some things never change.
 
I had two very sweet/embarrassing moments.  One was when a volunteer told me that someone from the Snow Leopard Trust is coming to speak this week.  She said that it really was my doing because she heard me talk about it on one of my tours and was inspired.  This was so wonderful to hear because guiding a tour is really about educating and sometimes it’s hard to tell if you’re ever getting through to people.
 
The other was when I introduced myself to an intern and she said, “Oh yeah!  I know you from the DVD!”  Yes, there is a DVD about the sanctuary and I am on it.  I sound and look like a dork.  I sprained my ankle that day and the last half of the interview I was just holding on until someone could drive me on a golf cart home (I lived at the sanctuary at the time) and W could take me to the ER for X-rays. 
 
As embarrassing as the DVD is, it was still kind of cool that she recognized me.
 
There are many things I’d forgotten that came back to me yesterday.  How raw you feel after six hours in the sun.  How I cannot empty water bowls without getting my sneakers wet.  How the dust from the parking lot gets in your nostrils and leaves you with black boogers. 
 
My hamstrings are burning right now – cleaning is glorified squats for over two hours.  And I’m extremely tired.  But my back feels fine.  I feel so lucky these days, for my health, my strength (both mental and physical), and my life in general.  I hope that everyone feels like this because it is an amazing high.

Miss Zoot rocks.

I have a musical tonight, volunteering in the morning, and Dame Edna tomorrow night.  So Sunday morning I’ll do an a real post and some maintenence like adding those links I promised three months ago…

But I couldn’t let this sit here with talk of hookers when I really need to be thanking Miss Zoot for putting up with my no-idea-having, none-url-speaking ass and delivering something very me despite no direction or help.

Yay Miss Zoot! 

Me:  Oh Lord.  You would pimp me for a microphone wouldn’t you?
 
TG:  Of course not!  It would have to be something much more valuable.
 
Me:  Like what?
 
TG:  …An airplane?  Yeah, I’d pimp you for no less than airplane.
 
Me:  Sigh.
 
TG:  Well what do you want to be pimped for?
 
Me:  Nothing!
 
TG:  OK baby.  I won’t pimp you for anything.

Me:  Yeah right.  I’m so getting pimped for an airplane…

All that ass kicking I was doing at work?  Well, there are about seventy bazillion asses.  And I only have (one…two…) two feet.  Yes, I am so mentally exhausted that I have resorted to counting my feet before any assertion regarding their number.
 
(If you need inventory of anything I own that goes higher than ten?  The answer is seventy bazillion.  No, I will not take off my socks.  I’m too tired.)
 
I am in some ways thankful for all the asses in my kicking queue.  If I weren’t busy at work, it would make the days until my official notice intolerable.  Instead, it is tiring, frustrating, insane, and somewhat inane.   With just enough feeling of accomplishment that I don’t walk out prematurely.

 
I’m also starting to feel very guilty and frustrated over the fact people don’t know I’m leaving.  I have no desire to make it public until my official two-weeks, but I thought a certain meeting with a certain boss would have occurred by now and I could informally give him a heads up.  I’m pretty sure I’m in the headcount for some new work on the way and I hate the idea I might leave them in a lurch.
 
But the meeting has not happened.  And there is just not another good way to share this information.   So I sit and worry.  When I’m not ass kicking.
 
So…how was your day?

 His email had promised:

“I can come pick you up in my unglorious truck, we’ll do the Strawberry Festival, get something to eat somewhere in the adventure, and I’ll take you home, weary but thrilled.”  
 
He didn’t disappoint.  I even got a stuffed animal Stewie out of the deal.

“You know what caught my interest within the first five minutes?”
 
“What?”
 
“The little streak up here.”
 
“My witch’s streak?”
 
“Yes.  Not so much that that you have it, although it’s unique.  But you don’t try to hide it.”
 
“I’ve been going gray since I was thirteen.  I’m used to it.”
 
 “I thought, ‘there’s someone who is handling life gracefully.’  Everything is temporary, but looks more than anything else.”
 
To be honest, I have been thinking of dyeing it.  But when I wear my hair down it’s almost impossible to see.  You have to pay pretty close attention to me to notice it.
 
That’s what caught my interest.

The first few questions of the interview were easy.  In part because I didn’t have to answer them.

“So, why are you here?”

“No, I already wrote down her answer.  She loves it here.”

“OK.  Well, do you have any previous animal handling experience?”

The room laughed while under her breath MC spoke as she wrote, “…hand…fed…lioness…”

“Any previous volunteer experience?”

More laughter, as I offered, “I worked at a soup kitchen in high school.”

There were some tougher questions.  What was my intent this time around.  If they could fast track me into more responsibilities would I want it.

This is a unique thing I’m doing.  People come.  People leave.  People do not return to volunteer.  Not after a two-year absence.

We discussed some options.  I can’t say what will happen.  I can’t even say exactly what I want to happen.  I want to be back there.  That was the future for me until today.  Today, after the orientation and the interview, it is my present.

As I got up to leave GM asked, “When was the last time you were out on a tour?”

“Thanksgiving.”

“Was that you and me in the rain?”

“No, that was my birthday.  At Thanksgiving, my tour guide was B.”

“Oh, good.  So it hasn’t been that long.”

MC broke in, “Wait…that’s why she’s back now!  Her birthday!  Damnit.  Now we have those three in a row again!”

The other two of the three were in the room, members of the committee interviewing me.  I’ve celebrated so many birthdays with them.

My immediate response was, “But guys, you don’t celebrate lowly LL volunteer birthdays.”

More laughter all around.

On my ride home, the radio gods blessed me with Thirty Eight Special.  Second Chance. 

(By the way, whenever there are excessive parentheses?  It means I’m in a good mood.  It’s something I noticed about my writing years ago.  Psych 101 students, analyze away.)
 

1)       I am dumb in the best way.  After my greed of Tuesday, I started rehashing numbers to plan cat teeth cleaning (boo) and birthday spa/shopping spree (yay).  That’s when I realized that my great savings plan only counted on paychecks until my planned departure week.  You know, the week that I will work and then be paid in the next pay period.  Mo’ money!
 
2)       I received the renewal policy for my car insurance.  November marked the three-year anniversary of my big accident.  (I actually had a second one – with a guardrail and therefore unreported - a month later.  It was possibly caused by some bad repairs to Veronica the first time, or the brake line that was pinched by Allied Tires when they rotated my tires the day before.  But since I couldn’t prove any of that, I opted to just get her fixed myself.  Not that this has anything to do with the story, but mentioning it reminds me of how low I was feeling three years ago.  Anyway….PORCUPINE!)  I was eagerly awaiting the drop in my premiums, while pessimistically gearing up for it not being much, especially after Wisconsin’s speeding ticket.  My policy is $150 less this time around.  Whoo for good driving!  Or at least, not getting caught.  Or at least, getting caught in states where the points don’t transfer to my license.
 
3)       Gmail has now thwarted my romantic life for the second time.  The first time was when it was brand spanking new and it delayed a morning email from the new boy until about 8pm.  The email suggested a little evening something-something, rare for us on weekdays due to the logistics, but of course it was too late by the time I got it.  I let him know toot sweet and it was the closest I ever heard him say a bad word about Google.  Why is this second time a positive thing?  Because it means he wasn’t ignoring me.  (“He” not being the new boy.  “He” just being unnamed in that annoying vagueness habit of mine.  I’d make a joke about the new boy definitely ignoring me, but I think when it’s been a year since your last interaction that falls into an entirely different category.)  (I’m using quotes correctly there, yes?  I can’t stand excessive quotes almost as much as I love excessive parentheses.)
 
4)       I found my gloves!  Which, Jules, are Harbinger.  I couldn’t tell you before because, well, they were lost.  Where were they?  Umm…on my closet floor?  And no, my closet is not so grody that you can’t see the floor.  I had evidently placed them on top of my exercise/accessory cart at some point and they fell between the cart and luggage.  This is perhaps evidence that I am dumb in not exactly the best way, but they are found so I’m OK with that.
 
5)       I realized walking home from the gym (in my condo complex) that perhaps I should make a bigger deal about this whole weight-training thing.  I had given it up because of my back.  I bought a handful of dumbbells and did small 10-15 minute toning sessions at home instead.  I haven’t had a need to wear these gloves in over five years.  It’s been a month now and I’m feeling fine. 
 
6)       I seem to be the only woman alive who can move the “Careful, Wet Floors” triangle thingy from the middle of the bathroom floor.  This is positive because it amuses me greatly.  I kind of want to leave it there all day.
 
7)       Work.  Those who caught my Monday night mope know it has been bugging enough to actually write about, something I never do.  But since Monday, I’ve had a bit of mojo around the office.  Today it culminated in having two work products reviewed with zero deficiencies, fixing a major problem I did not cause, finding a major problem I did not cause and presenting a good strategy to my boss, having my boss’s official response to another test be, “Kick ass!”, and receiving yet another Outback gift certificate for the effort that went into some meetings lately.  (I now have close to $200 in gift certificates to Outback.  I never use them because I’m not a huge Outback fan and there is not one close enough to me for a convenient take-out dinner.  But today I realized that with this much plastic swag, I can live it up a Roy’s with a few guests in the near future.)
 
And!  Because people have been so fucking funny lately I want to lick them, list of positivity, part II: women who are so fucking funny:
 
1)       Mimi SmartyParts:  “Fuck you if you don’t know what a Triscuit looks like.”  Amen.
2)       Miss Zoot:  I now aspire to cause a gas leak scare and the fire department to be called.
3)       Heather:   “I return to my apartment and duck inside quickly, paranoid that an early rising neighbor will see me. Without dropping my bags, I hurry into the bathroom, remove the toothbrush from my mouth, rinse and spit.”  If you do not love this woman to bits you are dead to me.

Don’t.  Just don’t.
 
Don’t ask a woman five minutes into your first conversation how she feels about the fact that you have a five-year-old daughter.  And after I’ve stumbled through how I’m not sure, I have tons of pseudo nieces and nephews and love them dearly but understand that the relationship dynamic would be different so I’ll just have to see how it goes?  Don’t ask me again in another ten minutes.  Because, you see, it hasn’t gone anywhere in those ten minutes.  Really.  If there was some magical word you were hoping to hear the first time round, fishing again isn’t going to find it.  Live with it or move on.
 
Don’t have a perfectly good first date, plan a second date, and then fall off the face of the earth.  I’m not even that upset over the whole, “I’ll call you” and then not.  I’m resigned to the fact that some people can’t or don’t want to be honest.  I’m not surprised when I hear those words and the phone never rings.  But to actually start planning a second date?  And just vanish?  It’s cruel.
 
Don’t leave.  I know you can’t not.  I’ve braced myself for this for almost a year.  I know you’d prefer to ignore that this is hard.  It’s just part of your life.  Since you can’t change it, why make a big deal out of it?  But for me to pretend it isn’t hard would be to pretend our time together meant less than it did.  That you mean less than you do. 
 
After several instances where I pretended that people meant more to me, for the simple fact that I wanted someone to mean something to me, I don’t want to do that. 

I just don’t.

Yesterday was a bit more bearable.  I managed to make some people happy at work.  By the evening the cold had moved onto my chest, which meant I officially started that sounding-worse-than-I-feel stage.

Probably the biggest pick-me-up though was completely materialistic.  My tax refund came in and I got a sneak peak at this Friday’s check with my performance payout (read: percentile-type-company-wide-performance-driven bonus).

I had both paid off my escrow shortage and purchased the Phoenix tickets by “borrowing” against the tax refund.  Something I wouldn’t have thought twice about if I hadn’t set such aggressive savings goals for myself these last few months.  I certainly plan to work while in school, but I want to be as comfortable as possible and to have options.

Even though I knew the money was coming, the hole in my savings account was killing me.  There are several things up in the air right now that I have little control over.  It’s hurry up and wait all over the damn place.  This is one thing I can put my hands on and it feels so much better to know I’m on track.