I mean…dude.

I’d love to be more eloquent about the past month, but I just can’t.

The fundraiser, while a huge success from a logistics standpoint of that evening, did not garner quite the bucks people hoped for.  I can’t help it, I take it a little personally since I had such a role in several aspects of the planning.  More specifically, I see things that can definitely be improved and feel I might not get the chance to implement said changes.

The same week as the fundraiser, I got a call from GM while on a remote part of the sanctuary property stating a dauchand needed rescue that day – he was on death row.  Of course I called Tom, who of course said YES!, and of course the dauchand turned out to be a 45 lb weird basset hound/dauchand/rotreiller mix.  He’s way too big and energic for our household.  Luckily, I only signed up to foster him (with everyone thinking we’d fall so much in love that we’d “fail” and keep him).  Alas, we love him but don’t attend to fail.  It’s been very stressful and I am thankful that (fingers crossed) he appears to be going to a new mommy this Sunday.  What’s even better?  She lives in my condo complex!

A few days after that, we took Roark in for X-rays and got confirmation on what his blood work hinted at.  Cancer.  Lymphomas all through his body, including one impinging on nerves in his front left leg.  Chemo and radiation just sound cruel for a 14 year-old cat so it’s been a ton of drugs daily to keep him comfortable, bandaging the leg as it’s prone to swellings, force feeding at times to keep weight on him, and many many vet visits.

Perhaps the only reason I can write about it is that yesterday for the first time I found him downstairs and ready to eat with the rest of the pack.  I know it doesn’t mean anything – he’ll be leaving us soon – but it was such a joy to get that one memory of the cat he used to be.

Other than that, I’ve been sick.  Ill.  Coughing.  Hacking.  Sweating.  I can’t believe I got through the stress of the fundraiser only to have a complete physical meltdown.  I thought I’d finally get back to eating right, exercising, and wow my in-laws at Thanksgiving.  Now I’ll just be lucky if I can say hello to all my in-laws without leaving chunks of lung on them.

Large sanctuary fundraiser on Friday.

Large flood at site holding fundraiser auction items.

Lady is one week into her heartworm treatment – some heavy breathing here and there and fingers crossed.

Roark is limping and not eating – blood work pending.

Daschund rescued from death row of shelter turned out to be a 40 lb Bassett Hound/Rotreiller mix.

I really wanted to work that into the title of a mass email I sent out today.

Please excuse the picture quality – it’s a print screen from the podcast we did for the sanctuary on my hair cut.  This is the closest I’ve come to admitting my real identity on this site.  Note the oh-so-high tech rectangle over the logo.

So, what did you do today?

As in, “back into the”.

It’s been on my mind to try and find ways to write more.  I miss it, and I think it misses me.

So I wrote a little post that I’ll finish in the next day or so.  But I thought I’d shine up the place for its arrival.  I’ve updated wordpress since I first started this blog, which forced me to back up my database for the first time as well.  And after very little searching, I found this theme which I kinda like.  I’m not sure how I feel about the archives, but hopefully it will grow on me.

(A thank you again to Miss Zoot for my last theme.  It was great to feel that personal touch on my blog, but after 2+ years it was time for a little change.)

Please check out the new look, and check back soon for more progress.  As in, “Jessica in”.

While I wish I could sit down and tell you exactly what’s on my mind – how crazy, exciting, frustrating, exhausting my day-to-day has become – I can’t.

It’s not because I want to keep things private (although I do) or that I can’t find the time (although I can’t).  It’s that I lack the ability to communicate something without a buffer or a break or a bonus round.  What’s going on with me RIGHT NOW?  Ummm…

Yeah.  I sit in front of this blank screen and just…blank.  It all seems boring and piddley and whiney.

Instead, let me share that a month or so ago Tom and I went on vacation.

It was only the second vacation we’ve taken where the point was us.  It feels indulgent and – as I try to plan Chicago since my father is having surgery again – foolhardy.  A whole week?  Just to be together?  Whatever can we do?

Turns out, quite a bit.

We flew in to Las Vegas, spending 4 nights there then driving to the Grand Canyon for 3 nights and returning to Vegas in time for one more buffet and a flight out.

First off, Las Vegas is so not my type of place.  I’ve cared for cats from shows.  I’ve seen the conditions.  I know the trade and cruelty that is perpetuated by even the best caregivers just by fact of displaying them.

It’s also not my place because it is so over the top.  Vegas is disposable and luxurious.  I am canvas bags and frugal.

But…I still loved it. 

We saw 3 shows, gambled a little, and used our jacuzzi every day.  I must say, for all the hype, Zumanity is much tamer than I expected.  Perhaps because this is one area where I am definitely NOT frugal.  Ahem.  But it was still a great show.

Also, as someone who thinks finding good places to eat as a top priority on vacation while Tom is more of the “Is that McDonald’s I see?  It’s cheap and quick!” vacationer, Las Vegas was perfect for us.  We ate several meals at buffets – usually making the meal stretch over the day so as not to seem too piggish.  He couldn’t resist the bargin of a buffet, I couldn’t resist the fact that there is no such thing as bad food in Vegas.  The only thing I found lacking is that I don’t believe you can get great Italian food at a buffet.

After 3 days, we were off to the Grand Canyon.  Where we promptly fell in love with the view, bought peanut butter and bread to make all-day hike preparations, and hit a brick wall.

I’m scared of heights.

And, like a few of my other fears (frogs), it’s one I never really think will rear it’s head.  I mean, sure I quiver when I climb and enclosure to clean off the roof and I curse a bit on ladders.  But, am I REALLY scared?

Evidently, the answer is yes.  Yes I am.

Our first afternoon, we struck off to do a small section of trail to get a good sense of our timing so we’d know how far we could go the next day.

I got maybe 6 yards down the trail.

I got another 12 yards before I made us turn back.

This was a little less than the 12 miles we were planning.

I was so distraught.  I can’t believe I’d planned a vacation to the Grand Canyon and couldn’t even hike!  However, I also didn’t feel like putting myself through pain and hell was exactly what a vacation should be about.

We decided to go down the trail we wanted to hike and see how I felt about those conditions.  It wasn’t much better at first.  There was a large turn at the first switchback and you couldn’t see around it and I couldn’t get over the mental block.

But then, as we were looking around the area thinking we wouldn’t be back the next day, we found an alternative way to the trail head – one past that first turn.

I’m not sure why it got easier for me, but it did.  We hiked enough to determine that we’d make a go of it the next day.

We made it 3 miles.  And I’m not pointing any fingers, but I wasn’t the one to turn us back.

And…that was it in a nutshell.  It was an incredible trip.  The combo of slot machines and canyons is one I definitely recommend.

Note to self:  It hurts to not post.  Four episodes of Buffy until I had erased enough comments that the page would fully load and I could use the “Delete All” button.

You’d think after all that trouble, I’d have something to say.  But no.

The truth is, I hardly turn on this computer any more.  And while I must spend time on one for “work” (granted a Vista machine…eich), I haven’t read another blog in months.  And until I’m staring at this blank space, I don’t really think about what that means to me.

And…I’ve just goaded my husband down the stairs, so I guess I wont’ think about it now either!

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…

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.