Yesterday was hard.  It started.  The wet summer time where I will bring socks home from the sanctuary that smell like swamp-ass.  If I were you, I would not venture into my closet with the laundry pile right now.

I need to invest in some waterproof boots, a neccessity for the Costa Rica trip but perhaps more for my sanity and feet skin right now.  Sports Authority had an entire wall of men’s hiking boots.  For women, they had three pairs.  Two waterproof high tops I can’t wear because of my ankles (only one had my size left anyway) and one pair of low top non-waterproof boots and what’s the good in that?

I haven’t been exercising lately.  Too busy.  Too sunburned.  Being back at the sanctuary means I get a good workout three times a week.  Unfortunately, being back at the sanctuary means I need to get more good workouts into my schedule so my body is strong enough to withstand those workouts.  I didn’t even do that much yesterday, but a lot of standing and walking.  My hamstrings are so sore that I couldn’t sleep last night.

ST and I will look at an apartment today.  I want to like it a lot because I love my condo and I don’t want to be sad letting it go.  Moving means being with ST and that should be a happy thing.  I think it will be hard to like an apartment after living here, in the first place I’ve called home.  We really wanted a house, with a yard.  (Have you counted the animals?)  But the rental market is horrible in Florida right now.  Everything is going condo, putting rentals at a premium.

Us living apart though is awful.  And yes, I mean that in a romantic I-want-to-be-with-him way.  But pragmatically, it is awful in what it does to my schedule, my gas allowance, my eating habits, simply my time management.  I don’t mean to complain, and he’s worth it as I stated previously since he recharges me.  I’d be a hell of a lot snippier if I was doing all of this just to feel drained in the evening.

We’re trying to piece together some trips, and I really need some confirmation and planning.  I hate that I’m nagging him every day about what his boss said, but everything is so hectic for me right now.  We’re supposed to try and get away Sunday-Monday in a week.  I will have a lab report due that Wednesday, take the lab final Thursday, the final exam Friday, leave for Costa Rica the Monday after.  A girl needs to know what’s up with weeks like that.

The other trip would be to see my family.  That I need to know for entirely different reasons.  I need to know we’ll get a real vacation together - where all this real life stuff can be ignored.  I need to have airline confirmations to look at and sigh when I get scared about my mom.

All of this talk of busy, I’d better go do something other than stare at a computer screen. 

Paper, done and uploaded to classroom.  Lab report, complete and burned to CD.

…I started another recap of my weekend.  But it was long and I lost interest.  Not that it wasn’t awesome, because it was.  But instead of wishing to savor the past, I got antsy to antiscipate the future.  What will ST and I do this weekend?  How great will it feel to be out at the sanctuary tomorrow?

It’s strange, because I’m usually a hurry-up-so-I-can-sleep antiscipator.  I like being busy, but the introvert in me always yearns for hours to do nothing but read.  Part of this change is probably because I’m doing what I really want to be doing right now (transmission purchases aside).  But part of it is ST.

I hadn’t realized it until just this past week.  I enjoy spending so much time with him because unlike most of the human population of this world, he doesn’t drain me.  Spending a day with him recharges me just as much as hours of alone time.

All is not paradise in my little world however.  There are various family issues, specifically my mother’s health and my grandmother’s treatment of me lately.

My mother is very sick, with an illness she was diagnosed with when I was about twelve.  It involves her digestive tract and that’s all I’ll say in part due to her privacy and in part because I don’t think anyone ever truly figured it all out.  Realizing she was very sugar intolerant helped.  She slowly got better, mostly through a very restricted diet.  The past few years it seemed she was so much better.  She ate a chocolate chip cookie every once in a while, and wine.  Even tomato (fructose).

But all of a sudden, she’s much worse.  Doctors don’t know why or really what to do.  Some tests necessary are too invasive to perform while she’s in so much pain.  She’s been to the ER and put on morphine.  She’s worked barely a few hours here and there, and has lost a lot of weight.

I haven’t hated living this far away from home since I went through the divorce.  My only silver lining is that George is back in Chicago and sees them regularly.

My grandmother, after weeks of long talks on the phone, has clammed up on me.  I’m afraid the reason is because of the transmission purchase.  I almost didn’t tell her, but we’re close and tell each other most everything.  Grandma is the only person I can talk about death with.  But money?  Much more of a touchy subject.  I haven’t been on this side of the equation in a while - the side of the have-nots.  I want to tell her I’m doing fine monetarily.  But until I have a job, I doubt she’ll believe me.

As a side note, ST and I recently talked about it and he stated there was no way he could live like I am right now; slowly depleting my bank account.  And honestly?  I thought I wouldn’t be able to either.  I thought I’d go insane with worry and have a job already.  But I planned this carefully.  I have backups and reserves and strategies.  Most important, I know this is the best thing I could do for myself with this money.  If I were still at my old job, I’d have probably paid cash for a new car when the transmission issue came up.  And there I would be, brand new car to drive my miserable ass to and from a job I struggled to make important in my own mind.

My grandmother, who lived through the depression, seems to think I’ve learned nothing from her.  Yet if I didn’t listen, I wouldn’t have been able to save and strategize and get myself to this point.  It frustrates me that she worries, especially when it feels that the only way to assuage her fears would have been to stay miserable.

So, yeah.  I’m all over the place tonight.  Got a lot on my mind, I guess.

I’ve had a few topics brewing, but this week has been full of sun poisoning, migraines, and paper research.

I felt so bad that I didn’t make it to the sanctuary Wednesday.  My left ankle was swollen an inch thicker than the right one and it felt just like a sprain, all stiff and painful to move.  I now have a pretty bad-ass red blotch all over my leg that will shut anyone up if they say I was a sissy about it.  Although I have received many jokes about tips for living in Florida.  The worst is that when we decided to go wading, ST turned to me and asked, “You know how to walk in water right?” And I might have replied snottily, “Yes.  God!  I’ve lived in Florida for thirteen years!”…Yeah.  Not the smartest retort for someone who can’t seem to grasp the concept of sunscreen.

(He was referring to the “stingray shuffle” in case you wondered.)

Just as well I stayed home, Veronica was done and ready for me mid-morning.  I realized driving her home that given her mileage (142,000), I’m looking at driving her for another three years or so unless anything really horrible happens.  I love her and all, but it’s kind of depressing to think about driving such an old car for so long.  Then I perked up because ST’s truck has over 200,000 on it so I can relish a trade-in soon for something made in the twenty-first century with real padding left in the seat cushions.

Thursday I went to class.  I researched/wrote my paper.  I might have eaten a Yoplait Whips! Chocolate Mousse Style yogurt or six.  And no, I don’t really believe it’s finally a guilt-free way to enjoy chocolate.  But somehow that didn’t stop me.

Today I went out to the sanctuary, complete with really dorky hiking socks covering the worst of my wounds. That didn’t bother me in the slightest anyway as I was suffering from a migraine pretty bad.  I did back-to-back adult/children tours and thought I would puke beforehand.  But once I got going I loved seeing the animals so much it made me feel a lot better.  I also made some progress with a serval I’m training - she was much calmer with my moving around (standing/kneeling) during our session.  An important thing to learn as vets can rarely care for animals sans movement.

The paper…blech.  Writing a paper for an on-line course where there’s been no interaction/class discussion is painful.  I’m humbled by the contributions already posted.  I’ve had a hard time digging up real numbers research for the topic I’ve chosen (Human-Animal Interaction as a Conservation Issue in Neotropical Costa Rica).  Also…my writing style?  Not so good for a scientific paper.  The one good thing coming out of this is it has forced me to realize if I take a writing course in the near future, it needs to be on scientific/research writing.

Oh, I got a 94 on my test.  And I’ve been accepted as a full-time student at USF.  I had my last measles shot Thursday and I’m waiting for my new registration appointment, hopefully a lot earlier than my old one.  There is space in the bio II class but not the lab, so I’m going to have to sit on the site waiting for one to come open.  Luckily, a TA for the bio II lab is a volunteer at the sanctuary.  She’ll help me get in if she can.

That’s about the round up here.  ST tried to surprise me with catching an earlier flight today but it was full - evidently many people wish to leave Alabama.  I read his comment to my last post this morning and nearly died.  I don’t know how I got so lucky as to find him.

Quickly…

Veronica needs a new transmission.  Despite the fact that it is rather expensive, it is the best option for me right now.  At least she can be fixed.  Of course, I’d considered replacing her later in the year and now I won’t because I’ll want to get my money’s worth out of this transmission.

Scholastic hurdle #1 achieved.  I think I did well on my second exam, but it definitely seemed harder than the first.

Scholastic hurdle #2…I do not want to write this paper.  This paper has made me a three-year-old.  DON WANNA!

Now, some photos…

Cocoa would like to know when guinea pigs got so big and carnivorous.  (All jokes aside, Celeste gets scared and jumps out if he approaches her.  Endless amusement.)

I titled this, “It’s hard out there for a Busch.”  Says it all really.

Frisco, peering from his Are They Gone Yet ledge.

Alabama better give him back soon, damnit. 

The weekend started horribly or furtiously depending upon your point of view.

I tried to get my shit together so I could leave straight from the sanctuary to ST’s house.  But I didn’t try too hard.  The cats were all at my place, about to be unattended for 48-hours+ and I felt better with an early afternoon check that the litters were clean, the water bowl was full, etc. even if it added an hour and a half to my schedule.

Someone was in front of me at the gate to my community.  An idiot because they didn’t see the gate was actually open and they could just drive through, but whatever.  I had to put on the brakes and come to a complete stop for her ineffectual card-wave at the reader.

When I stepped on the gas, Veronica stalled.

She started again just fine.  But once you put her in drive?  She has other ideas.

Some maintenance guys were at the gate and helped me get her to my parking spot.  I then went upstairs and called ST.  I had no idea what this would do for our weekend, as we were planning on driving her about 350 miles in a few hours.

He was very calm and efficient and wonderful about it.  Not that I was freaking out, and I knew in the end what should be done, but hearing it from him made me act a little faster.

I called Toyota (the belief at the time was it was a timing issue, and a dealership is best with those) and called AAA for a tow.  I didn’t know you could just call one and send your car off somewhere without accompanying it.  It felt wrong - like she would be carted to the junk yard accidently - but at the same time so nice to not have to leave the house.

In the meantime, ST was wrapping up work, driving home, grabbing clothes and Busch (Celeste, the cat, was already here), and driving over.  We’d really been looking forward to this trip and I was glad we weren’t going to let this stop us.  The big issue was that he drives a small, standard, truck.  I don’t drive stick and while I fully agree I need to learn, there was no way it was happening in the next hour.  He was going to have to drive the entire trip.

When the tow truck got here we learned Veronica will drive in reverse, just not forward.  This speaks to a transmission problem rather than timing.  As of right now, Toyota knows no more than that.  I don’t think they looked at her to be honest.

Both ST and his mother mentioned we should change our plans if I felt the need.  But frankly, if he was willing to drive I wanted to get as far away as possible from this mess.  The good things as I see it are that 1) she didn’t stall on me out in traffic 2) she stalled before we started the trip.

We got underway in rush hour on Friday.  The trip up wasn’t bad.  We seem to drive well together.  Only issue was the damn excited dog.  There is no room in a regular cab for an excited dog.

Somewhere on that drive we agreed that “The Gambler” is our song.

It was so cute how he got excited about seeing the water for the first time, and pointed out places that had changed, he’d eaten at, etc.  I’m sure if we’d been driving in from the north (his usual route), it would have been more.  My family does the same thing driving up to the cabin in Wisconsin.

We got into the cabin at Port St. Joe a little after 11pm.  It was an awkward way to meet his parents because he was so exhausted we basically said our hellos and ran right up to bed.

Not so awkward that I wouldn’t give it up a little in the morning though.  It was a vacation.  Is there anything better than vacation sex?

We made a quick meal of coffee cake, dressed in swimsuits and shorts, and headed out on the boat.

Oh, wait.  First we stopped for fishing licenses.  I have a fishing license.  Hee.  That cracks me up.  Although I know given the chance, ST will want to fish around here a bit and bring me along so it’s not a complete waste of money and paper.  And I held a rod for about 3 minutes that day, so for those 3 minutes I did not have to sweat the marine police hauling me off.

What did I do if I wasn’t fishing?  I finished a book for the Costa Rica class.  Oh, and burned.

Damn did I burn.  I was lax with the SPF because of all my time out at the sanctuary.  That and the stuff I brought was spray on, which works great but once out on the boat I was misting everyone else so I wasn’t as thorough as I should have been.  I have patches and streaks across my legs, both feet (and I always burn my feet.  Do I learn?  No), and a small patch across my chest that isn’t usually exposed in my santuary tank top.

ST burned too.  Not that I would wish the discomfort on someone, but it was nice to have company.  His shoulders and legs were pretty bad.

We spent most of the day on the boat.  They didn’t catch much, and even less that they could keep.  ST caught a hammer head shark which was pretty neat.  (Thrown back.)  The one time I held the rod for him I told him I felt there was a bite but he disagreed.  When I reeled it in for him, there was a pin fish on the end.  I was pretty sure he’d baited it with a shrimp, but I didn’t say anything.  I let it just dangle by the boat until he noticed.

“Where’d that pin fish come from?”

“I told you I felt a bite!”

“I guess, once again, you’re right.”

At home, ST and his father cleaned the boat while his mother and I had showers.  That was the best shower I’ve had in a long time.  The burns hadn’t really set in yet to sting.  And there’s just something awesome about the clean you feel after a day on salt water.

I made an attempt at studying, but the sun time was starting to set in.  We napped until dinner time.

His parents, by the way, are very nice people and I like them a lot.  He assured me that they “adore” me.  Probably mostly because I can put up with their son.  I don’t get the feeling that they dislike me or anything, but I noticed they didn’t really ask me any questions.  It’s different with my family.  Perhaps some people would call it nosy (and my grandma can certainly get nosy with the questions posed to me when suitors aren’t in the room), but I think it’s just showing an interest in someone. 

But his dad as an amazing smile, and graced me with it a few times.  So I knew I couldn’t be doing so bad.

We were hurting pretty bad by dinner, especially my feet.  After some ice cream, we opted to go to bed early.  At first the thought of sex, even vacation sex, with the sunburns was revolting.  But after some tossing and turning we decided it was just what the doctor ordered to calm us and get to sleep.  We managed somehow.  Amazing what the body is able to do.

The next day we didn’t do much.  His mom tackled the closet where one of the AC units is kept and I caught a hilarious moment where she’d roped his dad into pulling something out and as he tried to step away from the mess of spilled lamp oil, he got a wad of paper towels in his chest.  The look on his face was priceless.

ST and I walked with Busch down the beach a bit, but even that was hard on the burns.  I studied on the porch while he read.  We went to the trading post just to poke around.  Around noon, we packed up and caravaned into Apalachicola to drop the boat off and have lunch.

The drive home was in some ways better.  Busch was exhausted from all his adventures and pretty peaceful.  There wasn’t horrible traffic.  But the drive home is always unsavory from a vacation, and we had to drop Busch off at ST’s cousins, shop for a duffle bag, and get him set to leave for Alabama.  It was after 9:30 when we got home.  That is one long ass day.

In some ways, I wish we’d had time to start teaching me stick.  I know he hated leaving without there being a vehicle here for me to use.  (I pick up a rental this afternoon.)  But I’m glad we didn’t force the issue over our relaxation time.  I drive roughly 300 miles in my weekly schedule and I just couldn’t see a lesson or two on a standard being sufficient for me to be comfortable.

He was up at 5am to catch his flight.  I miss him already.  I have a stressful week and half in terms of school work ahead of me and it’s just not fun when I can’t look forward to some downtime with him in the evening.  

Heh.  I realized driving home from class that this morning’s post might have spawned a few questions.

About a month ago, ST and I had a conversation that every Rules writer would say is death to a relationship and everyone who knows me personally won’t believe actually took place.

Me:  Can I ask you a question I’m not supposed to ask?

ST:  Yes.

Me:  Do you think we’re going to get married?

ST:  If we continue on this path, yes.  Definitely.

Me:  Me too.

Some follow-up:

1) No, we are not crazy or desparate.  We’re not rushing to get hitched so we won’t die alone.  We’re not rushing period.  We want to live together and talk through A LOT of circumstances before making it official.  It’s just that we know the goal of this relationship.  This ain’t no party.  This ain’t no disco.  This ain’t no fooling around.  (Whoo!  Party-less, disco-less marriage devoid of fooling around!)  Knowing that, it brings all those things I was babbling out to the forefront in my mind so I enter a marriage knowing how I feel about it.

2) Yes, he will make it official.  There will be some knee-bending, some sky-writing, or at the very least a poke in shoulder with, “You know that thing we mentioned?  Wanna make it official?”  Although regardless of whether I take his name or not, he can probably twist the above conversation around so that he follows in the footsteps of many men in my family who claim the women did the asking.

3) While we want a marriage, we have no desire to have a wedding.  Vegas baby.  All.  The.  Way.

I was accused of writing cutesy posts lately. I didn’t really agree with the statement, but then again I barely think about my posts these days.

I suppose glossing over my schedule and responsibilities in a whir of to-do lists doesn’t quite strike the chord of scared, exhausted determination I feel 24-hours a day to be the best.

I gave up a very well-paying career, and certain government clearances that assured almost always a higher-paying career. I grew up rather poor and I made many decisions in life - such as the degree in physics with only a minor in creative writing - based on the fact that I never wanted to be poor again. I’m following my heart big-time right now and it feels right. But the mortgage payments still are due. The AC still needs to be run. I still need to eat. I’m making sacrifices and depleting a little nest egg and I’m mostly OK with that. I think as long as I don’t relax too much, as long as I don’t feel like I gave up my job in order to sit around the house and watch UPN, I’m more OK with that.

(I’m aware this is a theme done to death here and one of the reasons I’ve been quiet about it. But almost every day I’m required to do something on this front - particularly the difficulties I had getting into classes and scheduling are already true for the fall as well and I’m doing my best to be proactive and persistent. So it’s on my mind almost constantly.)

ST and I are going to the panhandle this weekend to stay at his grandparents’ cabin where I will meet his parents. After the initial nerves wore off, I am really looking forward to this. While I usually am pretty confident parents like me, this time I’m not sure and I’m OK with that. This isn’t showtime. This is real life. I’d rather just be myself, treat ST well, and let judgement come as it may.

But my point was, originally I had planned to be at the sanctuary Saturday morning. Then I would drive an hour to his place, shower, drive six hours to the cabin, and show up in time for dinner. We’d then have a good twelve hours before repeating the process. And I thought this would work. I thought it would be fine. Just like all the other times I’ve tried to cram family events into weekends when I was also volunteering.

ST, in his wisedom and love, was fine with this arrangement. I let it mull over in my head for a day or so, already stressed about timing and traffic and could I get anything accomplished in a few hours out there and feel good about leaving. Then I decided I am too fucking old to be a martyr again and we are now leaving for the cabin Friday night. The sanctuary will survive without me, probably even run smoother without someone frantic to leave so early in the day. This is probably a no-brainer to most people out there, but it was hard for me and part of my learning process. I made him a promise. I haven’t always been great at keeping these kinds of promises.

I suppose it could come across cutesy as I try to gloss over the fact that I’ve met someone whom feels about me as I feel about him and that feeling is something I pretty much decided I didn’t believe in. Especially when this means I have to contemplate things I thought were long dead options in my life.

I have no problem considering myself a wife in private. Or his property for that matter, as I am confident I can consider him mine. But once we step out into society, I’m less certain. I always assumed I’d take a man’s name again, but I’m having such a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that I must give my family and heritage. (I’m reading this book to try and get some perspective. Any other reccommendations would be appreciated.)

There are also children to consider, which is something for a very long time I was adament against. And it’s one thing to contemplate babies when you have a stable career, and little extra perks like health insurance. But I am on a pretty tight schedule to get a new degree and establish myself in a field that frankly is a lot more fluid than my last. I was looking forward to field work and full passports and cross-country drives to the next national park. Which is not to say I couldn’t look forward to babies. I just am not quite sure how. I had to paint this picture in quite a bit of detail and stare at it for a long time in order to get the courage to leap. There’s no room left on the canvas. I have to start again from scratch.

(I won’t bore with you with the details of IF we do decide on kids, how exactly shall we procure them. I admit, the old-fashioned way as some appeal. But I also was always very interested in adoption, especially cross-cultural despite seeing the difficulties through various friends.)

If I have a moment tomorrow, I shall be back to cutesy posts with a story of how yankee women are not allowed to say “fixin’”. Otherwise, have a great weekend and relish the million possible train wrecks I shall share after our trip.

“I’m feeling antsy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m coming over.  Is that OK?”

“Yes.”  Dear God yes.

ST hit me with two unsavory items first thing yesterday evening.  He’s going back to Alabama next week and he’s leaving the dog with his cousin.

One of those things is mostly out of his control and the other was specifically to make my life easier.  But both cut.

I can’t help it.  When I hear that we’re going to be apart for another week, and have yet another week delay in moving towards moving, it upsets me.  When I hear that he doesn’t want to leave the dog with me, I feel alienated.  Forget all my bitching.  Forget the small condo, the not-house-brokenness, the pissed off cats.  We’re in this together, right?  So why do I feel so alone?

I have both a paper and lab report due in two weeks.  An exam in a week.  In some ways, I need to be alone.  Or at the very least, I need to be established together.  I don’t have an extra minute anywhere for us to work on getting there.

Confession: I purposely put off this life change in the hopes I’d meet someone special.  I was in such a stable environment, with such flexiblity.  But of course by the time ST met me, things were in motion.  And he loves me in part because of it.

I want to cry because I don’t feel I can take care of him the way he’s taking care of me.  I can’t make my expectations fewer on either of us, regardless of finite hours in a day.

This will change.  I hope. 

I love them.  LOVE them.  I live in a climate of tropical storms because of it.  I’ve been one of the idiots walking the beach during a hurricane warning.

Today, the rain let my thoughts calm.  One thing at a time.  Concentrate.  Savor.

Now it is just cloudy and blustery.  And my thoughts?  My paper, my schedule, his schedule, my lab, the sanctuary, Saturday mornings, the cats, August (although I am beginning to doubt my ability to make it to August), Father’s day, my father, his father, Alabama, a realtor, touch-up paint, my application, my bank account, my friends, my grandmother, my car and how tight is that belt really?, my exam…my exam?  Tuesday.  I said I’d be in Port St. Joe Saturday and Sunday.  Fuck me.  Why the hell did I go turning pages in my day planner to look for more blog fodder? 

I’m going to go hide under an umbrella now.

Tid - Tender; soft; nice; — now only used in tidbit.
 
ST used that in the one Scrabble game he won.  Tid is not in my dictionary at home, so if I had challenged him I would have won.
 
I got a 98 on my first biology test.  I was pretty happy, because I had really no idea what to expect and only studied by going over review sheets and notes.
 
Celeste, ST’s cat, is young and inquisitive; it’s entertaining just to watch her interact with the world.  She jumped in the guinea pig cage last night – no malice, just interest. 
 
Busch loves our morning walks, especially if other dogs are out.  This morning a pug was walking on the other side of the road, about 100 feet in front of us, and it was killing him.  SO.  CLOSE.  MUST.  SNIFF.  BUTT.  Lucky for me, the pug and owner turned around and crossed to our side.  I say lucky for me because I really did not want to explain to ST his dog died of an aneurysm due to lack of strange dog butt.
 
We also saw an adolescent blue heron.  The most striking thing was the bright, yellow eyes.
 
ST and I have been on the phone a lot this week.  We miss each other.  For him, I’m sure the ache is more prominent over the fact he’s been in a strange, shitty, hotel room. 
 
But for me, it’s more of the dull throb I feel every week brought on by the physical distance between us.  It was actually a small (very small) relief to come home and flop here today then packing up bags #3 and 4 to stay overnight before my usual Friday volunteering.
 
There are plans to change all this.  That soon coming home to flop and coming to see him will be one and the same.

Some people have wondered, and TG is still around.  We’re going to the John Hiatt concert next week.  He’s been busy with work and family.  He will soon be leaving Florida and I’ll miss him.

My Wednesdays really do a number on me.  I’m not sure what can change or if I’ll just suffer through.  There’s only five more weeks.  But I was sorely tempted to blow of school this morning.

I’m going to go call my mom now and see when it might be convienent for me and ST to visit.  I can’t wait to show him the cabin.