I was asked about the sanctuary recently.  I didn’t realize I hadn’t written about it in a while.  It’s such a part of my life that sometimes it feels like writing about breathing.

But, it’s also an intimate part of my life.  So sometimes it feels like writing about…well, other intimate parts of life.

Things have been good and weird for me out there lately.  The weird will be resolved this weekend (I think), and I will be free to talk about it then.  While I have strong evidence on which way things work out, I honestly will be happy any which way.

I spent a lot of time there over the Christmas break.  Well, there and Borders.  A local Borders sets up free gift wrapping and has charities come in and man the booth.  We are allowed to collect donations, and put out any literature we want.  Borders chose us as one of two charities, giving us the lion’s share of time.  I picked up some daytime shifts when other people were in work, got called out one afternoon when they were getting slammed, and volunteered to be there Christmas Eve morning.  As I heard from the manager’s pep talk, “Welcome to Hell!”

I have a leopard spot trimmed santa hat, so I wore that and smiled a lot and used my telephone voice.  I also wrapped a lot of books.

Christmas day, I got up bright and early, stuck overnight french toast in the oven, fed ST, then headed off to the sanctuary.  There was a very small crew of us, but we got things done quickly and I was on my way home to ST by noon.  It felt good to be part of such a great team.  Oh, I also stopped at MC’s work on the way there so she could partake of the breakfast.

On a sadder note, we’ve lost three cats this winter.  All were past their life expectancy, one by 10 years(!), but it hurts nonetheless.  I once wrote a poem for another volunteer who has a great affinity for feeding the animals.  She mentioned last weekend that every cat in that poem is now dead.

I used to be made of stronger stuff when it came to the life cycle out there.  None of our animals are young; it’s nature.  I don’t know if it was losing “my” lionness and tiger, or perhaps just time weaving into my heart a little more, but it’s been hard.

I was studying a manatee skull in lab today and perusing the papers belonging to it.

“Oh!”

“Hmm?”

“My ex-husband sent this in.”

“Are you surprised?”

“Not really.”

Yesterday was filled with things I like.  Here is a sample:
 
1)  Cleaning.  Gag, right?  Well, tell me you don’t love your most beloved spaces just a bit more when they are no longer inhabited by lint balls you mistake for additional pets.  And also have clean underwear in which to prance in said beloved space.  What made this task extra wonderful today was that ST was 100% onboard with all swabbing of decks.  He folded laundry while I cleaned litters, then we both attacked the porch.
 
2)  Produce shopping.  We go to the Big Top flea market, right near our apartment.  ST schooled me in the art of a deal when it comes to carrots and apples – about four or five produce stands are set up regularly amongst the $1 toilet brush holders that have a complete ocean scene inside.  We go to Henry, a squat jovial man of some Latino descent with OK verbal English skills and so-so written ones.  I could probably pick up Spanish by reading more than the dollar amount on his signs.  We are regulars of his and as usual he thanked us for stopping by in his own way.  Today is was an extra red pepper handed over as I picked up 3 for a $1.00
 
(3 for a $1 red peppers!  That was a savings of at least 4 bucks right there.  What do you do with 3 red peppers?  Freeze them.  Then roast them.  Or the other way around.  Either way, at least three of my favorite pasta dishes include them and they are rather expensive at a regular grocery store.)
 
(Another aside:  As we left Henry today, after he had introduced his wife to us, we contemplated how we are special to him.  And that turned in to us being, well, short bus special.  And that he sneaks us extra food because he’s worried how we survive the rest of the week without him.)
 
3)  Hiking.  Technically, walking.  To me, hiking includes rocks.  Whether real mountains or just a gravely path.  But we loaded up the dog and headed for the Hillsborough River State Park.  This time, we took a path that included none of the actual river – a swamp restoration area – that drew far less people than the other paths.
 
4)  Bathing.  Not just getting clean – a nice long soak in a truly hot tub while wearing a good mask, followed by a beauty regimen for the legs, hair, nails, and brows.  Topped off with a request granted for full body moisturizing.

I was perusing a myspace account of an old fling. I don’t know why. He was also a long-time friend, but the aftermath of the fling probably makes that verb-tense just. I’d just seen two other very close long-time mutual friends. Maybe that’s what put me in the mind to check in on him.

His profile says he’s single. And in his description (or one of those random thingies you put on myspace), he said he was getting over a crappy relationship. I’m either happy or ashamed that I have no idea if this relationship was the one I knew him last to be in, or if there have been others between. As a friend, definitely ashamed. As someone glad to not have more twists and turns in her life than she has road maps, I suppose it’s a little nice to know I’ve managed to let this one slip off the radar.

But, that’s not at all my point. Which of course you knew that if you knew me and understand exactly how many paragraphs I require in order to actually say anything.

A crappy relationship. It struck me because with him in particular, well, he’s the type of guy who is always getting over a crappy relationship. Except for the time when he’s in the relationship with someone who could be “the one”. It seems that once they’re over, all his relationships were crappy. Myself included, I’m well aware. Of course there were things to make it crappy. After all, we’re not still together anymore. He’s not still with this new ex-dame. If there were no downhill, there’d be no crap. But it puzzles me. Am I the only one who doesn’t hold grudges against exes? Am I alone in the thought that hey, we weren’t made for each other but that doesn’t make you a monster?

Yes. Some relationships were definite crap. Got birthday scars and memories of rocking on the kitchen floor while the phone was ringing to prove it to myself. But for the most part, I believe it’s just two cool people coming together who turned out to be not-quite right for each other. I mean, if I were to slander all my exes and call them scum, what does that say about my taste? I heart scum?

Why do so many people love to hate the ones they once loved?

“Yes Dear.”

“Hi.  When you get up, you really need to not leave Frisco in the bedroom.  He just tried to vomit on the bed and I flung him across the room.”

“Baby, he’s a sneaky bastard.”

“I know.  That’s why I said TRY.”

“Well maybe if my alarm went off so I got up at the right time – ”

“No.  Nonono.  I called YOU.  If you want to get bitchy, you have to call me back later.”

“…well, that hardly seems fair!”

I grasped for any sort of clever singsong saying to prove my point.  This is how we make rules, right?  Find a rhyming scheme and drill it home? 

From now on, whomever dialed, gets to be riled.

Of course, I didn’t think of that at 4:50am.  My mind was a little full of sleep and vomit escape paths.

I hate this feeling.  This feeling of making lunch while taking my first sip of coffee (it’s only a matter of time before I open the coolest lunch bag ever and find a cat accidently packed as he/she tried to demonstrate how absolutely STARVED he/she is). 

The feeling that the washing machine is running right now.  The dish washer soon will be.  Before I leave for class, I’ll also scoop the cat litter.

This feeling that I have to be on top! of! everything! every! minute! of! every! day!

I especially hate this feeling because I know it’s just a matter of time.  Whatever crazy schedule or five-minute clean-up I arrange now, will be out the window come mid-semester.  I’ll be laying on a layer of dirt above the carpet, eating either pizza or cardboard, and sniffing my shirt to see if I can get through another day.

Oh my fuck, is this semester going to kill me.

Ahem….what?  A tad dramatic?  Well, go to a FOUR HOUR compartive VERTEBRATE anatomy LAB.  you’ll BE CAPITALIZING LIKE CRAZY too.

Today was actually much shorter than planned, as I should be slinging raw meat at the sanctuary now.  But the first week of the month is worming and they try to get that done early in the day so there’s not as much rush against the sunset.

On top of school, I started work on Monday.  We all know better than to blog about work, right?  Right?  So I won’t.  And it’s a good place with nice people, but once again I’m in a spot where I am the freak.  The oddball.  The hippie.  The nature-lover.  Or, perhaps, the non-fianance/business/marketing person.  It was so amazing to be able to devote my free time last semester and over the summer to the sanctuary.  I can’t wait until I’m able to get a real job in the field.

In other news, there are several new statements in my favorite bathroom stall, including, “Britney Spears is your savior” and “Mike was here”.

I’m pretty sure those are unrelated thoughts.

I couldn’t sleep last night.  Hot, cold, twisty covers, snotty nose…you name it.

I arose at what was late for me (after 7am), but after entirely not enough zzzs.  I thought I’d pop up for some animal wrangling (our domestics, not the exotic kind), a bit of cleaning, and be down for the count before lunch.

Instead I organized my desk – including actually organizing the areas I messed up via organization, cleaned the kitchen, updated my address for my W2, sent two tardy emails, made one tardy phone call, got car stuff to the car, closet stuff to the closet, and started a load of laundry.

A quick bite, a quick panic of not finding one Ms. Celeste (hiding in pants drawer), and I was off.  Recycling, returning the most awesome boots ever in hopes of repair, books for school, litter for cats, and Target for the assortment of everything else for anyone else.

I was driving home (to finish the laundry, put away the dishes, exercise, and make dinner), when it hit me.

My mom is a super hero.

No fucking way I could do all this and then come home and engage a “Why?  Why?  Why?” toddler.  Or smile for the sullen pre-teen.  Or even gather up the energy to post bail for the minor.

ST’s mom recently made the hint that I have “plenty of good years left.”  To which I laugh, cringe, and sigh.  I’ve never wanted kids.  I’ve thought about them, determined at certain points in my life that if one came around I’d stick with it, and to be honest, I’ve fantasized about just giving up the struggles of defining myself in the world and let some diapered butt attached to my hip define me on its own.

(Note: I realize becoming a mother is difficult and a struggle itself.  I also realize that mother’s struggle with definition, perhaps even more so.  But the grass is always greener and that’s why it’s called a fantasy.)

In the end, I still have no deep desire to procreate.  And day’s like today bring home that fact.  But…strangely…I have a deep desire to have that deep desire.  I want to want kids.  I don’t know why.  I think you’re supposed to want kids, or have a deep repulsion of them.  At neither end of the spectrum, I keep waiting for the scale to tip.  I guess it makes sense to not have a deep desire to hate children, so I look towards the other end.  I wonder.  I wait.  I play with fake nieces and nephews.

It seems for every cute face, every tug at my heart strings and ovaries, there is another screaming brat holding me up in line at Publix.

I’m also dealing intimately from the other end.  I call.  I visit.  Would my grandparents be OK without me?  How much impact am I really having?  How might I feel when I’m that old and no granddaughter is checking in?  Maybe I’d be relieved to not have to fake cheery to one more person.  Maybe I’d die earlier, from loneliness.

I’ll see another fake nephew for the first time tomorrow.  I’m woefully late on introductions – he’s two months old – but I’ve been busy.  I’ll squeeze him and Mom in between a condo check/furniture pick-up and getting paperwork done for the new job.

I’m curious as to how I’ll feel.

“2006 will be much of about keeping old promises to myself. A trip I’ve wanted for awhile. Leaving a job I’ve been talking about leaving for years. Going back to school.”

From December 31, 2005.

Not only did I make to Ireland, I swung Costa Rica as well.  Pheonix, AZ and Cobb, GA also got added to the list of places I’ve been.

I quit my job.  And I’ve never looked back.  In all the hand wringing over mortgage payments, the head bobbing at interviews for jobs I could do in my sleep, I have never thought to myself, “If only I could just go back to that old desk and compiler.”  Not once.  Whatever happens from here on out, I know it’s right for me.

I am signed up for Ecology, Genetics, and Compartative Vertebrate Anatomy.  After this semester, I won’t have much more until I can seriously look at grad programs or work in the wildlife field.

2006 included more than I could have hoped for, and more promises kept to myself that I hadn’t even known I’d made.

I found love.  I did not sacrifice myself, become someone else, or settle.  I do not sit around in fear he will leave or find me less or decide he needs more.

I returned home.  While it has been made clear time and time again that returning to the sanctuary was the right thing for me, it was never so evident than this past Saturday when one of GM’s special cats – a cougar – passed away suddenly.  He drove up on a golf cart to remove signs from the cage, in preparation for less questions during a busy day of tours, and asked with tears in his throat if I could clean that section. 

I made two official resolutions for 2006: to read more non-fiction and to keep all the paper chains I create from paper napkin rings.  I kept both those resolutions.

This year, the resolutions and promises are more mundane.  After talking about it for over a month, we’ll join the horde of people signing up for gym memberships this week.  I’d like to stay on track and keep myself organized better – this past semester I felt the old “doing-too-much-not-well-enough” me creep in.  Me first, us second, everything else third.

But in general, I don’t have much to resolve.  I like my life.  I don’t have huge areas I wish to improve on.  I just want to keep the ball rolling.  2006 was an amazing success in my book.  I promise myself that 2007 will surpass it.