Wow.  Just wow.

I’ve now planted trees to help a secondary rain forest grow in an old pasture.  I’ve climbed inside a strangler fig and had my fear of heights humble me.  I’ve done push-ups in the middle of a parking lot to prove girls can do them.  I’ve cried at the brief sighting of a margay in the wild - something guides living there for years still only hope for.  I’ve been, um, brave? in the face of frogs?  I’ve become as fascinated with insects as a ten-year-old boy. 

I’ve spend ten days in the rain forest with some of the most remarkable people you could hope to meet.  Earth Expeditions are geared towards educators and while there were a few “informal” educators such as myself, most were school teachers.  I think their students are so lucky to have teachers willing and interested in pushing their comfort zones (be it heights, bats, insects, or just leaving the country).  I think the best teachers are the ones still learning, and this group certainly is eager to do just that.

I’ll probably recap in 2 day segments or so, but right now I need to get my butt in gear over that luggage that didn’t quite make it to Tampa last night.

I’m off!

I’ll be in Costa Rica for about a week and a half.  Limited Internet access, if any.  I’ll take pictures and write notes.

A meta side note:  I’ve had lots of comment spam lately.  If you try to leave a note and it doesn’t show immediately, it’s in moderation.  Depending on how much is there when I get back, it might fall through the cracks.  Apologies in advance.

Otherwise, have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!

Sigh.  First of three loads to do before I leave.  Only one that has “real” clothes in it.  (One of underwear, one of towels.)  I never put pens in my pocket.  I can’t stand feeling them fight against the material.  So what the fuck?

On the one hand, thank goodness I am not a fashion diva.  The clothes in need of replacement (a few T-shirts, 2 pairs pants, one pair jeans) probably equate to $150.  On the other hand, $150 is probably as much as I spend on clothes period for an entire year.  Possibly two.

On the one hand, we were specifically told to pack clothes we could stand losing.  I now have a duffle bag of clothes with that definition.  On the other hand, I get to make the first impression that I am incapable of doing laundry.

I should be packing right now, but I finally got the litters cleaned, the floor swept, the carpet vacuumed, and the trash disposed.  Basically, I feel like I can breath in my own condo and not catch the plague.  I wish to savor that feeling.

It won’t be my own condo for much longer.  How weird is it that I leave for Costa Rica sleeping in one home, and when I get back ST will drive me “home” to some place completely different?

At least the move can be gradual on my part.  We’ll keep the condo semi-furnished to help with the sale.  I’ve met a realtor I like and I have no issue with her percentage if it means I get to twiddle my thumbs, sign some papers, and still get a much bigger check than she.  I stress enough without learning how to market and sell real estate. 

Fingers crossed that it goes quickly though; it will be tight covering the bills for this place and the new place.  And yet this is really the best way.  I can’t imagine trying to keep it in “show” condition with three cats on premise.  I’m sure one of them is fermenting a hairball as I type.

I am very happy this trip is finally here.  After weeks of feeling tugged in several directions, it will be wonderful to simply focus on one experience.  And I cannot remember the last time I went on a trip where I did not have to plan and organize it.

I will miss ST of course.  But just two days after I get back, we get on a plane together to spend a week between Chicago and the cabin.  This is really the first time since quitting my job that I feel the luxury of being unemployed.

More later.  I simply must start packing.

I made peanut butter sandwiches with all the hamburger buns so I had to eat my last boca burger on regular bread.  Consider that your weird fact of the day.  I love making peanut butter sandwiches with bread-alternatives.  Mmm…mushy hamburger bun…

The title is supposed to be a spoof of, “A little bit country, a little bit rock-n-roll.”  Of course, it isn’t funny.  But when you feel damaged and lonely, what do you expect?

It’s late.  I have a tension headache.  Hmm.  Jaw popped too.  I stepped into something I shouldn’t have this evening.  Passion speaking before practical.  I’m leaving for three weeks, I cannot take on more responsibilities.  I have no idea of the struggles that went on while I was gone and what I would be taking on.  But I am watching something I loved, nutured, and help create falter.

I finished my final lab report.  I think it’s better than the first, which I received a fair grade on.  But fair means ‘B’ and I plan to ace this class so obviously I was unhappy.  I read the remarks and it seemed fairly simple what I had missed - I was just rushed and un-inspired.  However, the TA just sent out a last minute guide and in the examples of discussion?  He used part of mine as a bad one.  Admittedly fair, but damn what a blow less than 24-hours before I have to turn in the final one.  It had me second-guessing the entire thing.  Maybe if I weren’t so down and it were a little earlier in the game I would have used it as fuel.

Chemistry is bound and determined to hem up my biology progress.  It’s starting to look like I won’t make it to graduate school in fall of 2007.  In some ways I’m fine with that because I know I will be busy.  But I’ve always said long-term planning is not my thing and anything further than a year out feels like a crumbling ledge under my feet.

I leave for Costa Rica in six days.  I haven’t brushed up on my (almost non-exsistent) spanish or even memorized where on a damn map I’m headed.  All I’ve done is bought hiking boots, camp towels, and binoculars.  Feels like my solution to preparing is to spend money and that feels dirty.

I turn in a rental application tomorrow, making it official that I will be living with ST and leaving my condo.  I am excited yet scared about both of these concepts.  The closer we get, the more I remember how much I sucked at every long-term relationship in my past.  I feel I’m supposed to be the one confident in all of this - isn’t the women supposed to want commitment?  Plus, I’ve been-there, done-that, and rode the marriage-merry-go-round.  So why does it seem I am the one with questions?

Leaving my condo is a very practical idea right now.  But as I’m running around attempting advising appointments, enrichment meetings, Costa Rica research (coffee!  bananas!), and a double school work load to make up for missing next week, I feel like I’m right back where I always am.  Spread too thin.  Unable to focus and excel.  I’m worried throwing selling the condo into the mix is not a good thing. 

The head.  It pounds.  Thank goodness tomorrow is only a 15-hour day.

I should be in bed.  But I’m enjoying a few minutes to myself.  The list for this week seems endless, and full of un-concrete things.  Little can be done by simply rolling my sleeves.

ST and I spent Saturday and Sunday in Georgia with his family.  We got there late Saturday, after a fairly pleasantly drive.  We started rocky, his nerves a little shot over seeing his grandfather and wondering if it will be the last time.  But we seem pretty good at smoothing those sorts of things over.  And the drive was shorter than we expected, always a bonus.

Of course, I was immediately faced with a situation I never thought I’d deal with in my entire life.  The bedroom was already occupied by two deer heads.

I slept with deer heads.

I had sex with deer heads watching.

ST hadn’t given it a moment’s thought that this would bother me.  After all, I did know his family hunted and I was OK with this (if you eat it after you kill it and it’s all legal, I’m cool).  But…dude.  I do not mount the Styrofoam from my organic chicken breast and hang it on the living room wall.

He offered to take them down, but I didn’t want to make it a big deal.  I just needed a moment to adjust.  It’s like when you open the closet door and thought it was the bathroom.  Except there’s a deer.  Wearing a hat.

Sunday I got up before him and had coffee and breakfast with his mom.  We touched on just about every topic and it felt awkward but good to start this sort of relationship again.

Once ST was up, we played with the dogs and toured the property until lunch.  Then it was off to see the grandparents.

His grandmother was the talkative one; she reminded me of my grandmother a bit.  His grandfather was obviously in bad health, but it’s hard for me to say how severe not having a picture in my mind to compare. 

Just like with my grandparents, I started to feel tired and a bit stir crazy just sitting there.  We broke it up with a walk outside, but still.

His grandmother did slip a bit when discussing the (HUGE) family tree.

“And then there’s Jessica…so with you, we’ll have two.”

I just nodded and smiled, as did ST.  He thinks it might have been some sort of test, but hasn’t a clue what the right answer was.

Back at his parent’s, we once again played with the dogs and ended up swimming when he threw Tess’s (black lab) toy in the pool and it didn’t float.

We went out for dinner, got loopy in Wal-mart, hit the Dairy Queen, and then headed home.

Around 3am, his mom knocked on the door.  His grandfather had fallen, he and his dad needed to help get him up.

I know he feels horrible about it, but in a weird way I feel grateful for the coincidence.  He got to help.  It’s one more event that he won’t hear about over the phone five days later.

I thought we’d be up for good after he got back.  But sex is a pretty good tension reliever.  I just hope the deer don’t talk.

We got on the road early Monday.  I think I won points with his father when he questioned how I could walk barefoot over the gravel drive.

“I’m fine.  I have hard feet.  To go with my hard head.”

Loaded down with peaches, watermelon, corn, and butter beans, we headed out.  It was such an easier ride than we anticipated that I called my grandmother on the way and arranged for us to visit.  It was only an hour or so, but nice to see them.  We had Busch with us, and he was a huge hit as most animals are with them.

Back at his place, I cleaned while he went hunting a broiling pan for the steaks my grandparents gave us.  Enough travel and we’ll never have to grocery shop.

We ate, cuddled, and in a moment of alertness I hopped up and drove home before turning into a pumpkin.

I’m glad to be sitting here, with Sheba at my side.  But at the same time I hate being apart from him.  Of course, by the time I return from Costa Rica I should be able to have it all.

I’m at the sanctuary 2-3 times a week these days and having an awesome time.  About a month ago or so I was seriously considering moving up in the ranks.  It just felt so natural.

Then we decided to go to Georgia for a weekend.  And to Chicago/Eagle River for a week.  In between, I will be in Costa Rica.

Whether the feeling would be valid of self-inflicted, I would worry about how it would look to accept the priviledges of a higher volunteer level and then skip town.  After wrestling with the idea for a week or so, I decided I am very happy just being grunt.  I’ll do what I’m told and leave when I’m done.

Perhaps I would feel different if I weren’t allowed to conduct tours.  I’ve done 2 adult tours, 3 children’s tours, and 1 tour for emotional disturbed teenagers in the past week.  I don’t think I’d ever want to be a full-fledged teacher, but the tours are educational and it is both fun and amazing to help people learn about these animals.

Another thing is that I have worked back up to doing enrichment.  I was granted time yesterday and walked around with an intern handing out spice bags and liver-cicles.  (Scent is important to cats in the wild so spices interest them.  And a liver-cicle is, well, pureed liver frozen in a cup.  Yum.)  It reminded me so much of why I do this.  These animals rely on humans for everything.  They are reminded of this when they eat, when they shit, and when they hurt.  Enrichment is a time for the animal to just be an animal.

These pictures are not from that, but from an early morning while I was waiting for a tour to come.  It’s hard to get pictures because there is little time for anyone to just wander; we’re always working and the work is never done.  But I snuck to my car when I saw these photo opportunities.

Leopard, mid-yawn.  He came to us after his owner, a small road-side zoo operator, died.

Tiger.  She was a rescue from the exotic animal market, a pet.  I believe she was almost 3 months when the owners realized she was too big and dangerous.  She’ll live to be around 20.

Not wild animals, but too cute to not share.

I could no longer hit an A above high C consistently by the time I was nineteen.

I was twenty three when I had to finally admit this to myself and seek out notes in my own register.  The hardest thing about not being a soprano I anymore was the fact that it meant I no longer could just follow the melody blindly.  Almost any song arranged for more than one female voice has the high sopranos sing melody.  While my tone is nice (I recently taught an intern the trick of singing to a stressed cat and was complimented on my voice - this is the extent of my singing career these days), I have a pretty bad ear.  Singing the melody is by far the easiest thing to do and when I found that I sounded like a strained weasel, I was a little lost for a while.  I bounced through songs and notes randomly, including brief stints where I said fuck it and gave tenor ranges a try.  It took many solo car trips to ring true to my voice.

My voice here is changing.  For years I have spoken about frustrations regarding my job and the men in my life with a bite.  Now, I have no frustrations and, more importantly, feel no need to bite.  Not that I’m not a sarcastic bitch with ST sometimes (he likes me that way), but it’s usually not the highlight of our time together.  I try to remember snippets of conversation, caress a feeling into a paragraph.  But just as I tried to hit those notes, I’m stumbling all over the screen right now.  As I cannot fix this with trips to Gainesville and a dozen cassette tapes, my only options are to stop completely or allow you to watch every ungraceful sentence and semi-colon.

In other news, both trips have been planned.  My mother is very excited about us coming to visit and I can’t wait to show ST the cabin.  I also spoke with my grandmother.  She outright suggested they help pay for the car, which gave me a great opportunity to explain my current finiancial situation (I turned her down).  We ended that conversation on a much more normal note for us so I think she’s feeling better about the whole thing.

Off to study!