Perhaps we should have a memorial for this blog.

Not that I’m going anywhere…but damn, it’s kinda dead these days, huh?

My father, after two stints in the hospital, is fine.  Perhaps over-doing it, but alas it is genetic.

Tom’s grandfather has survived a foot amputation but resides in a nursing home at varying levels of with-it-ness.  We haven’t visited, and I guess we don’t plan to.  Not to belittle his grandfather’s life, but I just tried with all my might to get an old tiger to eat last night with no success.  Sometimes not visiting is better.

Zulu has had another run-in with the big-C.  She has had a much larger mass removed, but her lungs still look clear of metatsis.  She is still, much to the vet’s chargin, sporting her E-collar.  This means she probably could have had dissolvable stitches.  At it stands now, we all have another fun day of catch-n-sedate to remove her sutures.

Spike is reading over my shoulder.  We are now a five-cat household.  Shoot me now.  (Male, Maine Coon, young.  A domestic requiring adoption which happens quite frequently in our world since many people do not understand the type of cats the sanctuary rescues.  Or else because many people know santcuary people = suckers.)

I am…good.  Happy.  I have thought of a half dozen blog entries that all get put on the back burner with the rest of my life and the not-every-day-pressing job duties.  I can’t promise that I’ll be back with any regularity, but I can promise that I’m not shying away due to anything else but life.

And isn’t that a tad bit better than seeing another blog on the side?

I don’t have enough.  But this weekend, I got two days to myself to get the house, the car, and the laundry in order.

More later.  When there’s time.

The past two weeks have been bad.  Crazy, overworked, understaffed.  I had a fuck up so huge that I still get a bit panicky and shakey during certain moments.

The problem with making an error that you’re aware should be life-changing is that sometimes life isn’t able to put up with your bullshit.  Sometimes you need to go in and put in your hours and act like nothing happened.  And I’ve been able to do that.  Tom made that that ever-so-common statement I’m sick of hearing from men in my life:

“You’re stronger than that.”

He even went as far as to say that I was stronger than he would be in the same situation.

And this time, I didn’t roll my eyes or pout or break up with him.  (OK, maybe I had a slight eye roll.)

Many times in my life, I’ve been upset because I felt that I’ve HAD to be strong.  That strong was my only option.  I wanted the ability to check off the give-up, sweep-in-and-save-me, run-away-to-Canada, or all-of-the-above options.

This time I knew.  I knew all those other times were stupid and insignificant.  This was the time that counted.  And thank goodness for all those other times.

So I’m still here.  And things are somewhat better.

In other news…the dog peed on my pages-n-ink journal - three years of my life gone.  Including both my relationship with TG and the start of my relationship with Tom.

I finally saw Avenue Q and loved it.

Tom and I are planning a Vegas/Grand Canyon vacation and I’m very excited.

My father’s in the hospital.  He had surgery for a collapsed lung and it hasn’t healed correctly yet.  It’s been a week.

Life goes on…

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Nothing.  I had cheese and crackers.  And peanut M&Ms.  And doritos.”

“You had cheese and crackers?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t call me down?”

“Right.”

“But you called me down to move the washer and dryer?”

“All’s fair in love and war.  Guess which one this is.”

I was going to write on my birthday.  Then I was going to write on Monday so I could alliterate, except with numbers.  Now it’s Wednesday but that title is stuck in my head and at least 5 is an odd number because I like odd numbers.

I like odd numbers.  Sometimes, you gotta really dig.  Even for the little stuff.

I was spoiled with a new iPod shuffle the week before my birthday.  It is cute and clippy and totally unnecessary because I already had a shuffle that worked perfectly fine.  But I really wanted one - I kept tangling the old ear phones/neck strap in the dog’s leash.

I also received tons of gift cards from Tom’s family for which I haven’t properly thanked them.  And emails/cards/texts from friends.  And booze from a very astute sanctuary friend.

I made the very difficult decision to drop out of my class at school.  My scheduling was difficult, but not impossible.  What was impossible was finding time to study.  Any time I am home I want to sleep or clean.  Or sometimes both.  It really got away from me three weeks ago and I told myself up until the day before a test that I could catch up.

I am not happy with this decision.  More to the point, I am not happy with the knowledge that I won’t take any classes over the summer or in the fall.  There are work/sanctuary-related deadlines that I know will occupy most of my time.  And I knew this (for the most part), going into this situation.

The truth is, I have been very burned out on school ever since I got *any* kind of job.  Not since the second semester of school have I really been interested - in part because I haven’t been able to focus.

So…do I plan to return to school fulltime at some point in the future?  Or do I cut my losses?  These sorts of questions weigh on my mind even though I have absolutely zero brain power to make any decision on the matter.

So, I’m showered although my hair isn’t washed but give me a break because evidently there is a bet going on that my hair is the longest it has ever been right now which means it takes roughly 6.1 days to dry since I am against blow dryers.

I got home at a pretty decent hour (7?  I think?) and had time to cook a meal and have some sex and try to buy Avenue Q tickets several times while cursing the TBPAC online sales do-hickey.

I’ve managed to keep myself from checking work email (one of two emails I check for the sanctuary) and only sent one volunteer-related email and I remembered to put the clothes in the dryer which means I’ll have something to wear tomorrow which is pretty awesome since in spite of working 12 hour days I am somehow still managing to eat like a horse and not lose weight so it wouldn’t be pretty if I had to go to work naked.

I plan to start getting up between 5 and 5:30 so I have time to work out.  Any bets on how long that will last?  I thought so.

There have been three deaths in past two months at the sanctuary for which I felt like I was the one who noticed the change in the animal.  It’s starting to bug.  I don’t want any sort of death-intuition unless I can work it in an insurance-reaping manner.

This is my brain.  This is my brain on sanctuary 24/7.  It is hectic and crowded and sad and pathetic and overweight.

On the other hand, I spend my days with people who will go out for drinks at a moments notice.  Who buy me Littlest Pet Shop toys to put on my computer.  Who can get mad and me and I get mad at them and three minutes later we’re laughing because we’re friends and our lives are impossible but it just keeps going.

I set myself a goal for this week.

Shower every day.

It’s Tuesday, and that goal is blown.

That is all.

Damn, that really sums things up.

I have finished my first week working for the sanctuary.  And as I expected, I’ve been stuck at this sentence for nine minutes.  What to write about it when I spend 9-11 hours a day somewhere I’m trying not to write about?

I’ve launched our online store (email me at jessicainprogress at gmail dot com to sneak a peak and sponsor a cat for your sweetheart - who doesn’t want a cougar for Valentine’s day?).  Prior to this, we sold online through eBay shops.  It’s very exciting to be able to have pull down menus of sizes, colors, and cats for items.

I have to fight the urge to work on it in my spare time from home.  Which is a good thing, yes?

There’s very little other news.  I will try to work some non-sanctuary updates in sometime soon - just wanted to drop by and let you know things are going well.  Very well.

Nothing says “you’re old” like getting ready for a statistics test and realizing your calculator is older than HALF OF THE REST OF THE CLASS.

My mother-in-law sent me the cutest e-card this week.  I’d paste the link except then you could see her email address and I may not have learned much during my time on the Internet, but allowing strangers access to family that is allowed to hate you because you’re not blood related is a no-no.

Especially when she’s painfully aware you don’t plan on coughing up grandkids.

The card is a little animation of two…bunnies?  Cats?  Small, simplistic creatures with big eyes.  One green, one pink.  They chant and hooray for me.  And my favorite part is when they say, “You did some good stuff…we don’t know what it was, but it was good.  Do more.  More Good Stuff!  More Good Stuff!  More Good Stuff!”

What I love is that is pretty much sums up what the congratulations is for.  I got a new job.  How?  By doing some good stuff.  And the assumption of my new boss that I am capable of doing more of it.

Starting February, I will be working for the sanctuary.

Oh wait, I already do that.

I mean, I will be PAID by the sanctuary for doing MORE GOOD STUFF.  Specifically, administration/computer stuff.  We don’t have paid staff for animal care - that’s my volunteering position.  But we have a vast world on this here Internet and someone needs to corral parts of it.  And make spreadsheets of it.  And add to it.

I am very excited and frightened.  And of course, I don’t feel I can share any of that here.  Blogging credo # 1 - No blogging about work.

In fact, this is the second thing put in motion do to the idea that I can do MORE GOOD STUFF.  I have put off talking about because I wasn’t sure how.  But a month ago, I was asked to join the committee that runs the volunteer program.  (I guess I’d better do MORE GOOD STUFF, or else - as a committee member - I’m going to have to give myself a stern talking to.)

Some sanctuary people are aware that I blog.  One has even admitted to looking for the address.  For all I know, everyone from there reads because I haven’t looked at my site stats in months.  (Dear Sanctuary People, especially those not quite-so internet saavy, I can see your IP address.  Love, Jessica)

I don’t think I’m ready for this to be a public place where “In Progress” is replaced with my true last name.  While I always blog with the intention of being funny, or sweet, or nice, I would not say that I always blog with the idea that everyone in my real world is reading.  I’m not sure it would be any different, but I have too much other shit to figure out right now to give it deep thought or a test run or just let it fly and see what happens.

So, please bare with me as I get used to several new roles in my real life.  I may not be able to talk about all of it, but I promise I will try to be up to MORE GOOD STUFF.

Or at the very least, MORE EMBARRASSING SHIT.  Because that I can blog about.